Roots of Corruption
by Fan Of Games
Summary: When a young mage is summoned to Solitude by the High Queen to tutor her niece, she never expected to travel over all of Skyrim while teaching magic to the young noble...or to be a Daedra Lord's pawn. Can they overcome the obstacles before them and uncover secrets of the mage's lineage before an ancient evil engulfs all of Tamriel in darkness? -Major Crossover-
1. Prologue: An Unknown Evil Emerges

**Alright, this is the beginning of the first—and possibly the only—Skyrim Fanfiction I shall be working on. Before I get on to the rules I'll be trying to follow for this project and the disclaimers, I just would like to make a couple things clear. **

**First of all, this story is going to be very long as I'm going to incorporate a lot of quests into it, including whatever DLC (official DLC like Dawnguard and the new upcoming Dragonborn) I think I can work with. As such, I'm going to take my time with this project and go at a steady pace so I can get everything I want in the story, so you may not see another chapter for probably a long while. I'm not sure how long exactly, though I know one contributing factor to the long wait would be other Fanfiction I'm also currently doing. If any of you would like to know what the other Fanfiction projects are, feel free to visit my profile page and check them out.**

**And second, this story will be a major crossover. It takes place in Skyrim, but the two main characters who we'll be seeing in chapter one come from two different games other than Skyrim. I'm also going to include monsters from another game and possibly that game's expansion pack—maybe even the next game in the franchise, which will be coming out this year. One of the monsters will be of my own creation, but it's partly inspired by a boss from one of the games.* Finally, I may probably put in bosses from two more games just to add some more variety and give the two main characters a challenge. These bosses will serve in the quest I'm devising for the main characters and possibly even some of the regular quests in Skyrim. All of the games and the movie shall be listed in the disclaimers below; even though I may not use some of them in the story, I'm still including them in the event that I do use them.**

**Also, the author's notes in each chapter may be pretty long and I do recommend you read through them too to get a sense of how this story is functioning.**

**Now with that said, time to move on to the rules:**

**This story will take place two years after the main quest and the civil war and seven years after the Thieves Guild questline. Those questlines and the Blades quests are out, but miscellaneous quests, other faction questlines, and DLC questlines are in—though I may not use every single quest.**

**The main characters shall not be Dragonborn; they're people who have their own backstories and history to themselves.**

**Characters I've created for my own playthroughs in Skyrim shall also be included as supportive characters and will fit whatever purpose I have for them, so some qualities they may possess in my playthroughs may be different in this story.**

**I shall try as best I can to place the correct lore wherever it's supposed to be with the help of the Elder Scrolls wikia and the strategy guide (and possibly my playthroughs), but I might have to put in my own speculation in some areas. In some cases I probably may use alternative scenarios rather than whatever is canon.**

**Dialogue may not be exactly the same as in the game because I don't really remember the exact phrases the NPCs say.**

**The descriptions of the locations in the story may or may not match up as they do in the game, but I'll try my best to make them as close as possible.**

**So far these are all the rules I can think of for right now. If I come up with anymore, I'll see how I can fit them in with what I've already put up and how they'll affect the rest of the story. If you have any questions regarding the rules or anything in the story, feel free to ask me in your reviews and I'll answer as best I can.**

**And now for the disclaimers:**

**I don't own The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim or any official DLC for it; it's all owned by Bethesda.**

**I don't own Fire Emblem; it's owned by Nintendo.**

**I don't own Disgaea 2; it's owned by Nippon Ichi Software.**

**I don't own Amnesia: The Dark Descent or the expansion pack, Amnesia: Justine; both are owned by Frictional Games, which is collaborating with The Chinese Room to make Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs.**

**I don't own Demon's Souls and Dark Souls; both are owned by From Software.**

***EDIT: I put some more thought into this monster and decided to switch out Bane from The Dark Knight Rises and replace him with a boss from Dark Souls. Originally I had planned to use this specific boss as inspiration for the monster, but I chose Bane instead since I really liked his portrayal in The Dark Knight Rises. However, after considering which of the two the monster was more like, I went with the Dark Souls boss instead. So now the disclaimer for The Dark Knight Rises has been removed since it's no longer necessary. I'll go into more detail on this at an appropriate point in the story when I feel it'll be time to reveal which boss I chose as inspiration for this particular monster.**

…

"Come on, Jordan," a voice tinged with slight irritation as the speaker trudged through the white blanket of snow covering the mountain path, calling out to his companion ahead of him, "how much longer till we find shelter from a snowstorm that's bound to happen any minute now?"

"Oh, pipe down, you big horker," Jordan retorted, obviously getting annoyed himself, but not because of the temperature. "You've done nothing but complain since we left Markarth, and it hasn't been even four days since we passed through Karthwasten. If I had known you'd be this negative, I would've left without you and gone on to find wisdom and knowledge for myself; hell I'd have thrown you in the Karth River for all I care."

"You dragged us through the wilderness instead of taking the road, like I had suggested in the very beginning!" his comrade shouted above the increasing gale that rose above their voices. "It was your bright idea that landed the two of us in this situation in the first place!"

"And it was my bright idea that earned us the experience we needed to set out in Skyrim! If we're going to be mercenaries, we'd better get used to the life outside the city, take in the wilder side of the country that we'll be traveling through on commissions!" Jordan yelled back, "You want to take the road, that's fine by me. Just be sure you don't come back crying because a rabbit put a dent in that armor of yours."

"I only came with you because I didn't want you to die at the hands of some bandit, or the paws of the largest cave bear Skyrim has ever seen!"

"Will you knock it off with those tall tales already, Arren? The bandits and the Forsworn we've encountered, yes, I understand they can pick off a lone traveler, but they chose to deal with a mage and wound up dead," Jordan laughed as he thought of all the charred corpses, each and every one a deceased bandit they had to go up against on their journey. "Skyrim's biggest cave bear of all time? Hah! Now that's definitely something I've got to see!"

"It's true!" Arren protested, rubbing his arms to provide at least some warmth to keep them from thawing, having removed his steel plated armor a few hours ago due to getting sweaty from all the walking they did. "Don't you know about Kyne and the sacred trials? One of the trials is to fight against Ursine! Don't tell me you haven't heard of Kyne's trials during your stay at the College of Winterhold!"

"I have indeed read about Kyne's sacred trials, and just as we've established, I'm a mage!" Jordan stated the obvious, "Those trials are for strong warriors like you; they mean nothing to a mage like myself."

"That's not the point!" Arren argued, "What matters is whether you know of them or not, and I'm glad you do acknowledge them! Besides, even a mage like yourself can take the trials, provided you've been anointed with the symbols of Kyne's guardians, of course."

"Alright, now that we've covered that, let's get off this rather touchy subject and change the topic to something more intelligent and sophisticated."

"I never said it was touchy!"

"You were just whining about 'a giant bear existing in Skyrim' and 'Ursine of Kyne's sacred trials. If it's not touchy, what would you call it?"

"My belief in the old ways of Nordic culture and tradition, that's what," Arren stated as-a-matter-of-factly. "Not that you would care, what with you being a mage from the college."

"One of my goals at the college was to learn about history besides magic. When it comes to being a mercenary, there are three things of major importance: politics, finances, and history," Jordan explained.

"Yeah, you had me at finances back in Markarth, but Skyrim's political matters and historical tales don't mean anything to me."

"Didn't you just say that you believed in Kyne's sacred trials?" A small smirk spread across Jordan's face as he chuckled, "A Nord like you who lives only for gold would want nothing to do with history!"

"Beliefs and history are two different things, Jordan! Beliefs are religious, whereas history is written down as accounts of what happened and who caused whatever it was!" Arren countered, "And you're wrong about us Nords! We care greatly about our beliefs, mind you; one of the reasons why Ulfric Stormcloak began a bloody civil war throughout Skyrim in the first place was to win religious freedom for the Nords! We would've had it too so we could include Talos with the other Eight Divines we worship, but then the Imperials had to go and defeat the Stormcloaks!"

"Religious practices mean nothing when a person's life is at stake!" Jordan pointed out, turning his head slightly to watch a fox disappear into its burrow. "You're aware of Ulfric's discontent for the Dunmer, right? They practically had no freedom under his rule while they were living in Windhelm; furthermore, some of the townspeople there had plans on kidnapping innocent Dunmer for the purpose of torturing them, and for what I may ask? Information on whether or not they were allies of the Thalmor!"

Arren took a deep breath and exhaled, noting the sight of his own breath. It was getting colder and the sky was getting darker. Looking up, he knew sooner or later he and Jordan would have to set up camp for the night. The bedrolls slung around their shoulders were rather heavy compared to everything else they were carrying.

Jordan had his books and a staff enchanted with frost magic—funny how he choose that element over fire or lightning when considering where they both were right now—along with food and potions stuffed into that knapsack of his with the books. Besides the rather light load he brought with him, he had also brought a small box with two pairs or robes, gloves, and boots, all enchanted to keep the wearer warm in cold weather. Jordan was already attired in one set, so the remaining set for his companion still stayed in the box.

Arren, by contrast, carried his armor in a small crate just large enough to hold the cuirass and greaves. He still kept his boots and gauntlets on so his feet and hands wouldn't suffer from frostbite. The steel warhammer his father had wielded in the Great War against the Aldmeri Dominion thirty years prior to Skyrim's civil war rested firmly against his back, slung next to the crate.

Sighing, Arren figured that it would be pointless to argue in the middle of Haafingar's cold forests of the mountainous terrain. If he and Jordan wasted energy conversing over matters that were trivial to them, they might not find shelter soon enough. "Look, Jordan, you made your point. Now can we hurry up and keep searching for a place out of this foul weather?"

"Alright, fine by me," Jordan agreed, though there was something else he wished to know. "I don't understand why you hate the cold when you're a Nord. Your race is pretty resilient against the element of frost, so it's only natural for you to feel right at home in a snowy environment."

Arren scoffed, stepping over a log Jordan gestured towards as a way of indicating where it was. "Bah, I grew up in the city of Markarth, surrounded by mountains that weren't covered in snow as thick as this. Everywhere I looked there was nothing but rocky terrain with plateaus level enough for people to walk on without stumbling every so often. As for you, I could say the same thing."

"What, my departure from the College of Winterhold?"

Arren shrugged. "Yeah, that and you being a Redguard," He stopped walking when Jordan turned to face him. "What, you got a problem with what I said?"

"First of all, I left the College because I felt there wasn't really anything left the scholars and wizards had to teach me. I believed that in order to truly become a master mage, one mustn't just stay cooped up reading books and practicing spells, but should also explore the outside world."

"So this is what you'd call field study, am I right?" Arren asked.

Jordan nodded. "Correct. The college understood why I had to depart so they let me go, but they'd always welcome me back as a member in good standing."

"So you're still a member?"

"Yes, but I fail to see how I can't be a mage because I'm a Redguard."

"I never said you couldn't be a mage, nor did I imply it," Jordan held up his hands in a defensive motion, a few flakes of snow falling from his rugged beard. "I just think it's odd for a Redguard to be studying magic when your kind is more adaptive to combat, that's all."

Cocking his head to the side, Jordan crossed his arms and looked up at a nearby boulder to check for moss. "True, but not all Redguards would take to the frontlines, clad in armor while wielding a weapon. Some of them, myself included, prefer to learn magic. One of the more well known Redguard practitioners was a man named Trayvond, a member of Cyrodiil's Mages Guild who was stationed at the guild hall in Cheydinhal. He sold some spells and could also teach a bit of destruction magic to anyone wanting to learn."

"Was?" Now it was Arren's turn to cock his head to the side, though he kept his gaze on Jordan. "You mean he's deceased?"

"Yep, he was alive back when the Oblivion Crisis was threatening all of Tamriel. The Mages Guild had offered their assistance to help close the Oblivion Gates that were opening up all over the place. At the same time, they were also dealing with a more personal problem: Mannimarco, the most powerful necromancer in all of Tamriel who was known as the King of Worms."

"Did they manage to defeat him?"

Jordan turned his head back to Arren. "Why, as a matter of fact, yes. The Mages Guild triumphed over Mannimarco with the help of their new Arch-Mage."

Arren couldn't help but smile at that tidbit of information. "New?" he laughed as they resumed walking. "If their Arch-Mage was new, how were they able to defeat Tamriel's strongest necromancer?"

"Mannimarco knew how to cast a powerful spell that could turn living people into undead thralls, but Arch-Mage Traven killed himself and had his soul contained in a colossal black soul gem to prevent the spell from having any effect. As long as that soul gem was in the holder's possession, on his or her person, that individual wouldn't be turned into a thrall."

"So this Traven guy sacrificed himself for the sake of his guild?"

"Traven was a hero to the Mages Guild for his sacrifice, so I'd prefer if you could try showing him some respect for his deeds. The conflict between the guild and the necromancers stemmed partly from Traven banning necromancy from the guild and decreeing a large scale witch-hunt to eliminate whoever practiced the craft," Jordan explained, removing the map from his pocket and unfolding it to see if they were near an inn or a small village. "I've read his biography, and so far that's the only decision of his that I disagree with, though I still believe the Mages Guild had to go up against the necromancers sooner or later. In fact, the College of Winterhold has no qualms with necromancy, which is why some mages prefer it over the guild."

"Just one more thing, Jordan," Arren inquired as he caught up to the mage so he could look at the map too. "This new Arch-Mage…what was he or she like?"

"That I don't know for certain," Jordan replied, "There were biographies and an autobiography on the person, but the Aldmeri Dominion had all books on the new Arch-Mage burned as a condition of the White-Gold Concordat."

"Ah, tis a shame," Arren sighed as they trudged onward up the snowy hill. "If it were a young lass around the same age as I—"

"You'd look her up" Jordan finished for him, chuckling as a small smile spread across his face.

Arren couldn't help but laugh too. "You bet, hah ha! As long as the description of her is appealing!" For a couple minutes more they continued to laugh, Arren throwing his arm around Jordan's left shoulder and fist pumping the right one before pulling his arm away. "Anyway, are we near some sort of shelter, like a cave or something?"

Jordan directed his arm up ahead, pointing to the top of the hill in front of them. "Further up ahead is a ruined watchtower known Pinefrost Tower. I don't know what kind of state it's currently in, but hopefully it'll provide some shelter for the night."

Arren grunted in frustration. Evidently he wasn't pleased at the fact they'd be staying in a decrepit building that was likely on the verge of collapse…or disintegration if it was as old as a skeleton that had been around for a really long time—decades, centuries, whatever. "As long as the place doesn't fall down on top of us, I'd be glad to take it no matter how bad the accommodations are."

"Hopefully it's not too bad," Jordan responded, turning his head to look at the warrior beside him for a split second. "I looked into this region very carefully before we set out and I was able to glean a few details from a warrior much like yourself. Vorstag was his name, and if I recall correctly, he was a mercenary. He offered his services for five hundred Septims, but I kindly declined his offer since we didn't have that kind of money. However, after I remarked that we were going to become mercenaries the fellow offered his advice when I told him we were passing through the wilderness on the way to Solitude."

"He came out this way too, I take it?" Arren asked, already beginning to feel the effects of fatigue getting to him. He was getting tired of walking around with a heavy load, and he could tell that the frigid weather was taking its toll not just on him, but on the mage as well.

"Something like that, yeah," Jordan answered, his breath visible as he spoke while pulling up the collar of his robe to keep the snow from getting in his moustache. "He took a job for the Thalmor up at Northwatch Keep just to the north of here and he happened to pass by Pinefrost Tower on his way there. According to him, the upper half of the tower has already fallen over, yet the stonework was still in great shape; although, that was just a little over a year ago, so the structure probably weakened over time."

"Well if it did rot," Arren said, raising his voice a bit to talk over the wind, "let's hope it's only slightly damaged, but good enough to last the night."

"Agreed," Jordan nodded.

"Though I'm not too comfortable being so close to the damn Thalmor. Those sacks of shit are nothing but trouble. What are they doing up there anyway? Conjuring up a dragon to attack a small village? Worshipping Mehrunes Dagon?"

"Actually, Northwatch Keep is a prison for holding people who go against them, like Stormcloaks and worshippers of Talos," Jordan pointed out to put Arren's worries to rest.

"The Stormcloaks did worship Talos, too, you know," The warrior clarified in the event his companion didn't know of the belief the Stormcloak army shared.

"Yes, I was aware of that," Jordan nodded. "Still, no matter what someone does, anything can be a crime in the Thalmors' eyes if they believe the perpetrators are a threat to them and the Aldmeri Dominion. Though some say they purposely frame anyone in their way amongst other things so nobody can stop them from taking full control of the empire, despite claims from the Aldmeri Dominion stating they don't wish for full dominance over all of Tamriel."

"Wait, so the Thalmor can do more than just say someone did something wrong when the accused didn't even do anything at all?" Arren sounded surprised, but he was mostly shocked at how far the Thalmor were willing to go to keep their power.

"I believe they can, and I can provide two examples they supposedly engineered." Jordan explained. "One: the Second Treaty of Stros M'kai between them and my native country, Hammerfell. As part of the White Gold Concordat, the empire gave a portion of southern Hammerfell over to the Aldmeri Dominion. My people continued engaging the enemy army, even though the Great War was essentially over and eventually a stalemate was reached. Soon the treaty was signed, allowing for Hammerfell to remain independent while the Aldmeri Dominion removed its army from Hammerfell."

"But what does that prove?" Arren inquired curiously.

"To put it simply, the Aldmeri Dominion demanded the cession of southern Hammerfell because they were well aware that my people would show resentment towards the empire for abandoning them to the Thalmor. Basically, they wanted to turn Hammerfell against the Empire, a plan that has worked in some parts of the country; though much resistance is still alive in the hope that Hammerfell can be brought back into the empire after the Dominion falls."

"Okay, and the second example?"

Jordan turned his head to look at Arren. "Skyrim's civil war two years back."

The warrior's mouth hung agape, his shock even greater. He knew the Thalmor and the Aldmeri Dominion were nothing but trouble because they banned the worship of Talos, but never had he ever heard they had a hand to play in the civil war. "You're not kidding, are you Jordan?" he asked in disbelief, "I mean, there's no way the Thalmor would've participated in the war; they never even sided with either the Imperials or the Stormcloaks!"

"Just because they didn't choose a side doesn't mean they weren't involved," Jordan went on, "If you're familiar with the terms of the White Gold Concordat, then you'll know the Aldmeri Dominion outlawed the worship of Talos. That, my friend, was the fuse that set off the explosion we know as the civil war. Now that we're in the aftermath of the explosion, the empire still has control over Skyrim, yet its presence has been weakened due to many casualties. Fortunately, things have been looking up for the empire since General Tullius is now attempting to get what the Nords want through peaceful, diplomatic means."

"I heard of that," Arren spoke as he looked up at the ever darkening sky, noting the clouds approaching over head. "From what I heard of local gossip back in Markarth, the Dragonborn apparently helped the general overcome his contempt for the Nords and now he's learning more about our culture, traditions, beliefs, and other subjects as well. It's like it's his way of apologizing for his past views towards my people. If you ask me, Tullius is turning out to be a great guy now that he's turned over a new leaf."

"I'll say," Jordan agreed. "If you ask me, that's probably the first sign of good things to come. Hopefully we won't have to experience another war anytime soon; I'd rather not risk returning to Hammerfell to have my ass handed to me on a silver platter after it's been cooked by a fireball thrown by one of those Thalmor mages."

"Oh, yeah, that reminds me!" Arren suddenly remembered something Jordan had mentioned a short while after they left Markarth. "Didn't you say a group of Redguards had come from Hammerfell in search of someone?"

"Sure did," the mage confirmed it, "though they haven't found her yet."

Arren's eyes lit up as he found what may have been the perfect opportunity for a contract the two of them could take on…and perhaps the chance to fall in love with a beautiful woman. "Is this person a princess or some aristocratic noble?" He asked, hoping Jordan would confirm that too.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, lover boy, but this woman turned the city of Taneth and her own family over to the Thalmor. Now the Alik'r are seeking to bring her back to Hammerfell to be tried for her crimes."

"Well that's just great," Arren sighed, "Can't believe I almost fell for a criminal."

"It's not so bad," Jordan tried to cheer him up, "At least it could be a possible commission for us if the Alik'r don't find her yet. That's what you were also thinking about, am I right?"

"Yes, but it's not going to have a happy ending—for me, that is."

"There, there, Arren," the mage lightly teased, "I'm sure you'll get hitched sometime in the near future."

"And I'm sure it will be a beautiful woman, but hey, life's never that fair. I only hope that it'll be fair enough to provide us shelter soon—if I'm lucky, that beautiful woman will be waiting there for me."

"Is this fair enough?"

Arren looked up when he heard Jordan, his eyes widening slightly as they took in the sight of a ruined tower just up ahead. Judging by all the dying vines growing out from within the cracks between portions of broken stonework and the upper half lying deep in the snow just next to the bottom half, it was in pretty bad shape. Aside from the damage, it didn't look half bad in its decrepit state.

"This is it?" the warrior held his left arm out and pointed to the tower, "This is what's left of Pinefrost Tower?"

"Afraid so," Jordan replied, stepping forward to better take in the structure yards away. "It's not the best, but it'll have to do for tonight. Vorstag was right on the money; the tower's the same as how he described it to be."

"Was he also right about it being inhabited by someone or something?" Arren asked, pointing to a strange figure hunched over by the tower.

Jordan shook his head and took a closer look at the figure. "Frost troll…" he muttered under his breath, but made sure Arren heard him. "No, Vorstag said nothing about the tower being used as a home, so that frost troll over there must've moved in some time after he had come by."

"So now we have to actually work just to make it in the tower?" The warrior asked while taking the warhammer over his shoulder and gripping the handle with both hands.

"If there's more than one, I'd say we'd have no choice but to fight, so keep that warhammer out until we can assess the nature of the situation," The mage said, gathering up the magicka within him.

"And how do you suppose we do that?" Arren inquired, tightening his grasp on the warhammer.

"Simple," a fireball took shape and grew in size in the palm of Jordan's hand. "Like this."

And with those three simple words, the fireball was forcefully pushed out of the Redguard's hand by the magicka he had built up to propel it forward. It shot straight through the air, whizzing along at such a terrifying speed that its intended target turned around when it heard the sizzling sound of fire…but the poor frost troll couldn't get away in time.

On impact, the fireball exploded into flames that engulfed the creature, burning through its white fur and charring the skin underneath. The frost troll screeched in agony as it took one final breath before dying of severe burns inflicted by the fire.

Jordan turned to Arren, smiling broadly as he held his arm out to present the results of his spell. "How's that for playing with fire?" he asked jokingly, "Don't suppose we could sit around the flaming corpse and tell ghost stories?"

"At least it'll save us the wood!" the warrior laughed, "Hopefully it's not hot enough to carry! Speaking of ghost stories, let's hope that frost troll doesn't come back from the dead!"

As the two of them began to trudge forwards, getting closer and closer to the ruined remains of Pinefrost Tower, a loud screech suddenly erupted from within the interior of the structure. The two aspiring mercenaries froze in their tracks, preparing for whatever it was that cried out. Arren raised his right arm and held it in front of Jordan, placing the palm of his hand on the Redguard's chest, the warhammer in his other hand pointed downward towards the ground.

"What the hell was that?" the Nord inquired cautiously, lowering his voice to a mere whisper, "Another frost troll?"

"Definitely," Jordan nodded, "Frost trolls sometimes travel alone or in pairs, so it's no surprise to find a second one if the first is encountered."

"How can you be sure there aren't any more?"

"Because we're deep in the wilderness," the mage explained, "The only place where frost trolls are in a greater concentration is the Labyrinthian up in the mountains of Hjaalmarch, but that's only on the surface of the ruin."

"Well, then do you think I could take care of this next one?" Arren stepped forward and held his warhammer up, poised to charge the beast when it emerged from the tower. "If it's just one more, I think I could handle it."

"Sure, go ahead," Jordan gestured for him to go a bit further. "Just be sure to watch for its claws; they're strong enough to at least put a dent in your armor, but you're a dead man without it."

"Don't worry, I'll be fine," The warrior spoke confidently, flexing his muscles to warm up for combat. "The armor will just encumber me down and get in the way; without it on, I can move more freely than when I have the whole suit on."

"Flexibility is good," Jordan agreed, "but not when you're going up against something that can potentially kill you."

"It'll only murder me in cold blood if it's faster than I am," his companion stated, not bothering to point out the rather obvious pun. "The advantage is mine as long as it's slow."

"Then you have the advantage," the Redguard said while crossing his arms. "Frost trolls aren't the best at running. If you wanted to run backwards to get away from it, you'd be able to outrun the thing so long as there's nothing in your way. Hell, even a bear can outrun a frost troll if it's been injured."

"Great, then the battle's already been decided!" Arren exclaimed, swinging the warhammer around with ease, despite the ice that accumulated on it adding extra weight. If the ice was hard and black, then the warrior could dish out more pain depending on how tough it was.

He'd find out soon enough. The second frost troll had already come out to play and was lumbering towards the two men at a pace which would've matched a wagon if it had a broken wheel. A little closer and it was going to end up with a smashed in head.

Almost immediately Arren let the crate and the bedroll fall to the ground while a loud battle cry escaped from his mouth as he charged forward, running towards the beast to meet it head on. Quickly getting the warhammer in both hands, he swung it as he was about to collide with his opponent, just before the creature lashed out at him with its sharp claws. The strike connected with its intended target, inflicting a severe wound as the frost troll's head split open slightly. Unfortunately, its skull hadn't fully cracked open just yet, so the thing was able to grab the head of the warhammer and shove it aside.

As it moved to cut through Arren's shirt and bury its claws into his chest, the warrior pushed forward and shoved the warhammer right into the monster's belly. This move staggered the frost troll, but just as it was about to recover its footing, Arren ran right into it, pushing it back with his weight while discarding his weapon. Maneuvering his arms so that he could keep the beast's arms entangled in his own, the warrior lifted the poor frost troll up with such strength that it was expected from a giant, or even an Orc for that matter; and when he purposely fell back in the snow, he rolled backwards to get on top of the thing so it wouldn't get to its feet.

Trapping its left arm down underneath his body, Arren quickly grabbed the other arm with his right hand and formed the other one into a fist before smashing it down upon the beast's chest. The attack was so hard that the upper half of the frost troll's body was forced upwards while it screeched in pain. If the Nord's punch caused some damage, it was nothing compared to what the warhammer had done, as well as what the warrior was about to do.

Immediately, Arren clutched at the creature's head and got into a position where he had it in a headlock. With his right arm holding the frost troll by the neck, his freer left hand dug deep into the open wound left by his weapon, and, with much brutality, ripped a chunk of the beast's head right off. Blood splattered all over the area around them as the warrior threw the gory piece of head off to the side, releasing the now dead frost troll from his grip and standing up to admire the fruits of his work.

"Now that's how we do it down in the Reach!" He exclaimed proudly as Jordan walked over to the gruesome scene he had just watched.

"Yes, yes, quite a sight indeed!" the mage agreed, "Your physical strength is superb as always!"

"You can say that again!" Arren laughed, dusting his hands off as he walked over to pick up the crate and the bedroll. "With my skills in combat, the two of us will be the greatest mercenaries in all of Skyrim! Maybe even all of Tamriel for that matter!"

"I'm sure we will be, but tell me," Jordan inquired, "how do you suppose you'll wash the blood off you? Any sort of animal or creature nearby can smell you from about a couple miles away—give or take a few—and in case you aren't aware, we may be miles from the nearest river."

"Ah, quit worrying about that," The warrior casually brushed him off as the Redguard handed him his warhammer. "You've just burned a frost troll to death with a single fire spell, while I've slaughtered its mate here with just my little friend and my fists."

"Alright, you've made your point; we can handle anything," Jordan began to walk over to the sizzling corpse that was still burning. "Now let's go. We can set our things in the upper half of the tower and then sit by the fire and eat."

"I like the sound of that."

…

"Ah, now that was a good meal," Arren commented on the three pieces of cooked beef he ate and the two bottles of Nord mead he drank down. "Just perfect for a day like today. Still, I wish it could've been better."

"I didn't mind it," Jordan said, brushing the crumbs from the slice of apple pie he had eaten out of his mustache. "After all, you'll have to eat like this when you're on the road or in the wilderness once you've become a mercenary."

"Yeah, but what if we find an inn to spend the night in?" the warrior asked while reclining against the cold stone wall of the tower. "If we're going to be traveling by road, we should at least have some food there before leaving in the morning." Hearing his companion snicker beside him, Arren turned his head towards the Redguard to glare at him. "And just what do you find so funny about that?"

"Nothing, really," Jordan held up his hands defensively, "I expected you to say something about staying a little longer for the wench, that's all."

"But it's just as you've been saying all this time," the Nord pointed towards him, "Before we had reached Karthwasten, you said we shouldn't focus on women we're not going to be around for very long."

"I do remember saying something like that, yes."

"So if we're going to be involved in romance, it'd better be with women in one of the Holds or a smaller village, for that matter," Arren went on in his explanation.

"Tell me, are you planning on starting a guild that's similar to the Companions?" Jordan inquired, "If you are, then why not join them instead of working as a sellsword? Last I heard, they were a guild of mercenaries."

"Bah," the warrior scoffed, turning back to the flaming corpse before them. "The Companions are like some sort of brotherhood, not a traditional guild like the Fighter's Guild."

"Ah, so you've heard of the Fighter's Guild?"

"One of my ancestors was a member of the guild, yeah. I've heard a few stories about him from my grandfather, but that was a long time ago," Arren said with some sentimentality, a single tear rolling down his face. "Now those times are over, and it's high time I lived up to the career my family has worked in for generations."

"So your decision to be a mercenary was based on your family's experience with the field?" Jordan asked out of curiosity.

"Yeah, it's been a choice we've had ever since my great, great, great, great grandfather first formed a group of mercenaries with his friends," the Nord went on, reminiscing over his memories of his grandfather's stories. "After he got married and had two boys who wanted to do what he had done for a living, the decision was made to turn mercenary work into a family business. It's always been like that, and I intend to continue the trend. I just hope I don't die soon enough, as I'm the sole remaining member of my family."

"Well, let's just hope you find a woman in time," Jordan said as he used a simple Flames spell to keep the frost troll's corpse burning. "In any case, once we reach Solitude we'd better do some jobs so we can make ourselves known to the public."

"While being careful so the Thalmor don't set their sights on us," Arren said, "I've heard their Embassy is near Solitude."

"But what if we're doing a contract for them?" the mage pointed out, "If they end up being our employers for a few contracts, we could make quite a small fortune, plus the Thalmor could send other clients our way depending on how well we do."

"I don't care if we earn our pay from them or find clients through them," the Nord adamantly refused his companion's idea. "I don't want to work for them, period. Besides, didn't you say that you didn't want to go back to Hammerfell because of them?"

"You got me there, but still, if we're actually going to go through with this thing, we'd better accept the reality that the Thalmor might one day hire us," Jordan said, crossing his arms as he stared into the fire, remembering his homeland, basking in the memories of his childhood and adolescence. "By the way, when I said the Thalmor withdrew from my country, I was talking about their army. They've still got an underground network of Khajiit assassins traveling with the merchant caravans from Elsweyr. There aren't many of them—only one per caravan from the rumors I heard—but they were quite a problem because they've always been on the road and the city guards aren't willing to pursue them any farther than the outskirts of their respective cities."

"I would expect as much from the Thalmor. They'll do anything to get what they want. If the guards won't bother with them, then why even arrest them at all?"

"Because after the modus operandi was discovered in several murders that were committed, the authorities tried to hunt down the caravans, but by that time they were constantly on the move deep in the wilderness." Jordan explained. "When a few of them tried to cross the border into Cyrodiil, the guards there slaughtered them all. Now the caravans are afraid to approach the borders because it's heavily fortified just like the cities, leaving the remaining assassins essentially useless to the Thalmor, so they won't be receiving any help from them anymore."

"So the people are content with them hanging around their cities, plotting to kill off one person after another?"

"Actually, after the final murder, everyone in Hammerfell is smart enough not to trust the caravans, and the roads are patrolled daily by small brigades of fifteen guards. The assassins numbered fewer than ten and they're not confident enough to reveal themselves even at night," Jordan went on, "A small handful of them can't stand up to Redguard soldiers, which is why they're in hiding. Nobody will trade with them and they can't purchase anything from shops in small towns without risking getting identified and caught, so they're living off the land for now. I only hope the government makes the decision to send several hundred men or so to hunt them down."

"I'm sure they'll die soon enough," Arren commented, picking up a nearby twig and tossing it on the fire. "But why won't the Redguards take up arms against the Thalmor? They did discover that those Khajiit were working for the Thalmor, right?"

"They sure did, but my people don't want another war with the Aldmeri Dominion anytime soon."

"Ah…" the warrior sighed softly, "I see…"

Jordan looked over at the Nord and saw that he was lost in thought. Perhaps all this talk about the Thalmor was getting to him. Maybe Arren had bad memories of an encounter with them in the past, a time that might've caused some trauma for his poor nerves.

"I know what you're thinking, Jordan, but I'm fine," the Nord said calmly, somewhat surprising the mage with how aware he was of the other's thought. "The Thalmor haven't done anything threatening to me…at least not yet. Even so, I do appreciate the gesture."

"Alright, let's change the topic then," the Redguard stated, "What do you want to talk about?"

"Well, there is one thing I'd like to ask you."

"Go ahead."

"If you're a mage," Arren inquired as he turned towards Jordan and pointed at him, "why do you want to be a mercenary?"

Jordan chuckled, smiling as he thought of another thing he had in common with the warrior. "Well, like you, I too have a few roots in the career, though mine aren't as deep as yours. It was my father, who first worked as a sellsword, and he specialized in magic; I looked up to him as he has been my influence for wanting to learn how to wield magicka as my shield and my weapon."

"Do you expect you'll marry and have your sons continue the legacy?" The Nord inquired, to which the Redguard casually shrugged.

"I wouldn't want to force my children to do something they don't want to. If they wish to take up a different occupation, then I'd rather give them my full support instead of preventing them from fulfilling their dreams."

"Same here," Arren agreed, "though I think it'd be a little disappointing if my child would want to choose a job as boring as driving a carriage or administrative work in some big business, like the East Empire Company or Black Briar Meadery. Anything will do, as long as it's got some excitement to it and the pay is good."

"Some people actually like that sort of work," Jordan commented, rubbing his hands together to warm them up. "Not too exciting and somewhat tedious sometimes, but it gets the job done and puts food on the table."

"I'm surprised somebody could actually tolerate doing that for the rest of their lives, at least until retirement." Opening his mouth, the warrior yawned and stretched his arms up in the air before he began to talk once more, "And speaking of retiring, I'm getting pretty tired myself right now."

The Redguard chuckled again. "So get some sleep for a couple hours. I'll be sure to wake you when it's my turn to rest."

"Will do."

…

Tossing and turning in his sleep, Arren tried his best to get into a comfortable position in his bedroll, but it was difficult given how he was lying on the ground and snow kept going down his shirt each time he moved. His arms were sprawled out against the white blanket of the stuff, and whenever he lifted them up while turning on his opposite side the little bit of flakes that had accumulated in his hands traveled down his sleeves and ended up around his armpits.

There was a good reason why it never snowed over mountains in the Reach; there had to be. The Divines probably forbade it, the mountains were higher than the clouds, the Deadra Lords thought it'd be funny to let the whole city of Markarth go without snow, whatever.

Arren wasn't a stranger to this kind of weather. When he was a boy, he and his parents would go out to visit relatives in the other Holds, so they'd have to take the snowy roads to Solitude when visiting his uncle. The man had been quite the archer in his day, boasting of how he could stick up to five snowflakes on the tip of an arrow he shot. That was until the day he had gone up against a few bandits near one of the farms on Solitude's outskirts and came back taking an arrow to the knee. No longer able to perform contracts for his clients, his uncle changed careers and became a guard so he could continue to help the citizens, but in a different way.

He missed his family dearly, but knew they were all looking down on him from Sovngarde. If they watched him grow and develop into something he promised them he wouldn't become, he would've let them down. That was what kept him going, what strengthened his resolve to push ahead, and he wasn't going to stop just because they were deceased. Rather, it was the fact they were paying attention to his deeds that warmed his heart, even in frigid weather such as this. Sometimes he could still hear them speaking with him in his dreams, saying how proud they were to have someone like him in the family.

Arren dreamed of Jordan too, imagining his family welcoming the Redguard mage with open arms, glad that he wasn't going at it alone. The job of being a mercenary was tough and riddled with danger, but as long as he had someone to help him along the way, he and his companion would be fine no matter what came their way.

They just had to stick together.

_*Crunch!*_

The sudden loud sound jolted him awake from his slumber. Instinctively, Arren quickly grabbed his warhammer and immediately stood up, believing something else was looking for a fight. It could've been another frost troll, he surmised, though Jordan had said those creatures were only encountered in pairs unless at Labyrinthian, so it wasn't possible that a third one was around. Maybe a wild animal, such as a bear or even a wolf, had somehow found its way to the tower, but the mage could handle himself in that situation. If not an animal, then what had made that sound?

Arren didn't know, but he had to find Jordan. Hopefully he was still at the little campfire made out of the frost troll's corpse, otherwise the Nord would have to look for him.

"Jordan!" he called out, "Jordan, you there!"

No answer. Everything was silent, save for the noisy gale outside the fallen tower and the mysterious crunching sounds, as if something was having a meal. Arren grew worried at the thought of his companion being supper for whatever had been blundering by—maybe it wasn't a good idea to brush off his earlier comment on washing off the frost troll's blood.

"Jordan! Jordan!"

The mage still didn't answer, and that crunching sound was still going on.

Now the warrior had every reason to be concerned for the Redguard. "Hold on, Jordan," he called out as he rushed towards the gaping hole ahead of him, "I'm coming!"

Brandishing his warhammer, Arren made sure not to wield it just yet in the event he had no cause for worry, but his hopes were soon diminished at the sight of the…thing…that shuffled in front of him.

The Nord honestly didn't know what he was looking at. The…creature…whatever it was, appeared to have once been a man or maybe a woman, yet now it had been physically corrupted. It's eyes were about a foot apart and staring unblinkingly in two directions, with its mouth hanging agape, the teeth all jagged and crooked inside it. The left hand had grown deformed with sharp iron-like claws protruding from what may have been fingers; the right one by contrast looked fine, save for some leather straps wrapped around it just like the ones around the lower half of the thing's torso. The legs looked okay, but were still marred by marks just down to the clawed feet.

Worst of all was what had confirmed Arren's fears. The fresh blood painted all over the thing, but mostly on its clawed hand didn't appear to be from some animal or creature he knew of, and that could only mean one thing.

_This monster wounded, or possibly killed Jordan._

Unable to hold in his rage any longer, Arren screamed as he and the beast charged each other, only for the latter to die quick as the former swung his warhammer so hard it broke off the top half of the monster's head. The now dead corpse fell over as blood turned the beautiful white blanket of snow into a red carpet stained with the innards of a fallen foe.

Paying no heed to the cadaver, the warrior continued to run out of the tower and immediately turned the corner to check on his comrade.

Misfortune seemed to pull him deeper into the bowels of loneliness as he came upon Jordan—or rather, what was left of the Redguard lying on the ground. Split in two, the mage now looked like a discarded doll ripped in half by its owner in dissatisfaction before getting thrown away.

Pausing for what seemed like an hour or two—to him, time had slowed to an immediate snail's pace in a second—Arren eyed the corpse of the companion he had begun this journey with. That adventure had come to a grinding halt for Jordan as his internal organs were haphazardly tossed about while his blood covered a large chunk of the tower wall and the big patch of snow underneath his body.

Reminiscing of the time they spent together, the Nord started recalling everything the mage has said to him and the fights they got in against bandits and the Forsworn. He remembered the first time they had met in Markarth, sitting next to each other in the Silver-Blood Inn and initiating a conversation that tied the two of them together. He remembered all the friends Jordan said he made at the College of Winterhold as he spoke of each one, and the family the Redguard said he had.

He would be dearly missed by his fellow mages and the family that raised him from childhood to adulthood. Though, if there was going to be one person who would miss him more than any of those people combined, Arren felt it'd be him. As the sole survivor of his own family, the warrior had always been alone ever since he turned sixteen when his parents had been killed fighting off a scouting patrol of Forsworn near Harmugstahl Falls. From that point on he trained long and hard until he was as strong as they were, but it wasn't enough just yet. He wasn't strong enough to face the Forsworn and take revenge at the time.

When he met Jordan for the first time and struck up a close friendship with him, things were different. He couldn't avenge his parents' death alone, but with the mage's help he was able to put a dent in their numbers before they put the Reach behind them.

Furthermore, their adventure deepened their bond of trust towards one another as they shared stories of their lives and laughed at how futile the attempts made by their enemies at taking them hostage or killing them were. The bandits were stupid and the Forsworn were persistent, but it didn't matter because both fell to their combined strength as comrades destined to work together as mercenaries. Even the frequent animal or creature—like the two frost trolls they killed earlier—that took them for a meal didn't stand a chance.

Now those fun times had come to a drastic, dramatic end with Jordan's death. With the mage gone, Arren was all by himself again.

Thinking that it was the proper thing to do, the Nord gradually trudged the few feet towards the upper half of his friend's corpse and turned it over to stare deeply into the lifeless eyes of what had once been the greatest mage he ever knew. The Redguard looked back at him, but could no longer see him anymore; he'd still be watching from above in a place that was similar to Sovngarde, though Arren didn't know the name of it.

Tears gently rolling down the sides of his face, the warrior sniffed before looking away for a brief moment to wipe the sleeve of his shirt over his eyes to clear them of tears. It was no good; they just kept pouring out, but he didn't do anything to stop them. They had every right to slide down his face, so who was he to prevent them from expressing the sadness now welling up within his heart?

"I'll miss you Jordan…" he said while brushing two of his fingers down the deceased mage's eyelids to press them closed, "You were like a brother to me. Farewell, my friend. May you rest easy now."

Arren never was any good with words that described how he felt whenever somebody died. His life in Markarth, where Forsworn assassins constantly killed off the city's population, taught him that people die all the time. Despite it being one of the reasons why he didn't make a single friend back home, the warrior made an exception for Jordan since leaving with him meant he'd be getting out of what must've been the most dangerous city in Skyrim. With the Redguard gone, his death painstakingly reminding his friend of the deaths that came to the Nord's family, Arren felt he was experiencing another familial loss.

He wanted to bring Jordan's remains to someplace with people around so others could be made aware of what had happened. Then he'd write to his friend's family and visit them personally to share their loss. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be granted the opportunity to give the mage a proper burial.

That became apparent as a weird, aggressive moan suddenly made Arren whirl around to see another hideous human-like monster came running towards him, though this one was different. Rather than a deformed, clawed hand, the creature had a rusty iron cleaver attached in place of the lower half of its arm with nails to hold it together. Its face, in contrast to the other abomination, was split open to reveal several sharp teeth and a single eyeball staring unblinking at its prey. While leather straps were wrapped around the other one's body, scraps of iron covered much of this one's torso. It was fast too, a lot faster than the other one was considering how it covered a little over half the distance from the few trees it passed by towards the Nord.

Instinctively, Arren raised his hands to ready his weapon, but suddenly realized he had dropped it a few feet away while he had been looking upon the deceased form of his former friend.

By now the creature was over a quarter of the way towards him, speeding through the snow like an ice wraith zooming along the frosty winds blowing over the frigid terrain.

Aware that he'd be dead if that thing came any closer, the warrior made a mad dash for his weapon just as his assailant finally reached him. Hoping that he could get a quick swing at the monster, Arren closed his fingers around the warhammer and attempted to pick it up, but it was already too late. The strange monstrosity already raised its cleaver up in the air and brought it down hard upon the Nord's right shoulder, cutting deeply into his body and leaving behind a large gash.

Crying out in pain, Arren finally turned around as fast as he could with the warhammer in hand and struck at the creature. The blow staggered it for a few moments, leaving him with just enough time to use this next window of opportunity to get up and launch another swing at his opponent. It was a slim opening, but Arren managed to get to his feet and strike the monster down to the ground.

It was still alive, but a kick to its side followed by a hit to the head finished the thing off for good when the warhammer smashed the thing's head so hard it made it explode into large gory chunks as bits of skull and brain scattered all over the snow.

Breathing heavily, the Nord winced in pain while he used his weapon as a sort of crutch to help him walk in the tower. He had to get the healing potions from his knapsack and drink them down before the wound on his shoulder got worse. He wouldn't dare touch any of Jordan's things since that stuff should've been buried with him or sent to his family in Hammerfell—unless he really had to use something the mage brought with him, otherwise he wouldn't take anything from his pack.

This truly was one of the worst days in Arren's whole life. First it appears as if there's going to be a major snowstorm, then Jordan dies to leave him all alone in the middle of the wilderness, and finally he gets injured by a horrifying monster like the one that killed the mage. Things really weren't looking up for him.

Of course, things were going to get worse just as he expected. After all, he didn't know how many of these things were around him right now, but he was sure there were more of them than just the two that showed up—and that they could be much worse than their predecessors. Arren had to be prepared for anything thrown at him in this perilous situation, which was why he was pulling back to the tower so he could fight any foes in the narrow confines of the fallen structure. There, he could fight more effectively since confined spaces meant the only avenue of escape from his warhammer's reach was to back away. Hopefully he'd scared off the rest of these things should they approach.

Though in actuality, it seemed the Divines weren't smiling down on him anymore, for just as he had entered the ruined building and made his way towards the knapsack by his bedroll, the wall above him collapsed all of a sudden. Arren was violently shoved backwards so hard that he went flying in the air just as the warhammer fell from his grip. Feeling very much like a ragdoll himself, the warrior tumbled down the short hill and nearly fell over the side of the rocky cliff behind him.

"_What the bloody hell just happened?!"_ he thought to himself during a fit of coughing which brought blood and nasty bile up through his throat. _"Could it be that these things are stronger than they appear to be?!"_

Spitting out whatever fluids hung around in his mouth, Arren struggled to stand up so he could face the new attacker standing yards across from him. He couldn't see what this one looked like, though the waning moonlight revealed what its weapon of choice was—a double edged Deadric battleaxe—and his ears discerned what sounded like old dwarven machinery coming from the creature's left shoulder.

Looking up at whatever stars that weren't covered by the clouds dropping flakes of snow to the ground, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning his gaze back on his adversary.

"Everyone…Ma, Pa, and the rest of you…and Jordan…I'll be coming to see you all soon…very soon."

And with those final words, Arren let loose a mighty battle cry as he charged into what would be the last fight of his entire life.

…

"Next prisoner!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Elenwen glanced up from the latest register of prisoners to eye the Nord in front of her, an unconscious, rough shaven man possibly in his early thirties with gray hair and a gag tied around his mouth. Cocking her head to the side, she bit her lip as she looked him over from head to toe. "This is Thorald Gray-Mane, is he not?" she asked suspiciously, to which one of the two Thalmor warriors restraining the prisoner nodded in response.

"That's correct ma'am. We caught him over in Whiterun during the middle of the night. He was on his way back home after leaving the local inn when we nabbed him."

"And what crime has he committed, pray tell?" Elenwen inquired, averting her gaze back to the register. "Worshipping Talos? Plotting to assassinate one of our higher ups, or steal important documents from our Embassy?"

"He has done nothing so far, ma'am," the second warrior spoke up, "His family still believes in old traditions and such, which is why we made the decision to take him away for questioning in the event we are ordered to move against the Gray-Manes."

Sighing in frustration, Elenwen closed her eyes and pressed her hand to her temple. "Did it not occur to you that this action against the Gray-Manes will rile them up?" Her tone of voice was almost venomous with each word she spat out. "Have you not thought about what Jarl Balgruuf will do once he's thought over this? By now the Gray-Manes are all worried sick and are possibly calling on him for aid. If the Jarl demands to know why one of his citizens was arrested on charges not raised towards him, what am I supposed to say to him?"

The two warriors looked at each other in confusion before they faced their superior again. "I don't know," the one on the left shrugged, "say we discovered evidence to prove our claims."

"And where is this supposed 'evidence'?" Elenwen made quotation marks with her index and middle fingers just as she sarcastically spit out the word "evidence". "Have you actually found any of this "evidence" to support your justification, or did you pull it out of your asses to make up some outrageous tale?"

"Um…" the one on the right tipped his head down for a moment in deep thought, "we made it up."

"Damned imbeciles!" their superior swore under her breath, throwing the register at them in anger. "Do you even realize what you've done?! How do you think we're going to clean up the mess you made?! The Dominion already agreed to grant the Nords permission to freely worship Talos! Arresting him for worshipping Talos when he's allowed to is an invalid reason! I don't need you idiots causing an unnecessary skirmish that could blow over and turn into a full scaled war! What do you suppose Jarl Balgruuf is going to do if and when the Gray-Manes raise a fuss over this?!"

"I can answer that," a Thalmor wizard sauntered over, holding a torch in one hand and the register in the other after using a telekinesis spell to catch it before the slip of paper hit the ground. "The Battle-Borns side with the Imperials and agree with their decisions. They and the Jarl of Whiterun are already well aware Mr. Gray-Mane here has already been captured for being one of the Stormcloaks as a missive was sent to them some time after we took him."

"I see," Elenwen nodded, accepting the register when the wizard handed it to her. "Then why were these two unaware of this charge when I asked them about it in the first place?"

"They are new recruits who've been assigned here just a day before we left for Whiterun. Arresting Mr. Gray-Mane was their first assignment, and I must commend them on doing a splendid job. They do need to remember the charges on which they base their accusations, but as I've informed them of this particular charge against Mr. Gray-Mane only once before we entered the city, I've decided to let it slide. It is just their first offense, after all."

Looking back at the two warriors who silently mouthed their thanks to their commanding officer, Elenwen sighed again as she wiped any snow off the register and touched the tip of the quill she was holding to her chin. "Very well, you are forgiven and may proceed to the holding cells."

"Yes, ma'am," the warriors saluted her before heading inside with Thorald Gray-Mane in tow, followed by the wizard.

Watching them go, she turned to the register after they had closed the door and checked to see if there were any other prisoners on her list. Luckily for her she was finished with this little chore meant for a justicar like the one she spoke with a couple minutes ago. However, many of them were out patrolling the roads throughout Skyrim, stopping in every city and town to do a quick, routine check on any suspicious citizens. That left just two at Northwatch Keep, a warden and a torturer, though there should've been more to tend to administrative duties such as this one. There were already enough guards to defend the keep from bandits and anything deadly from the wilderness, so it shouldn't be too hard to send more justicars up here for management.

She'd write an order to do just that when she returned to the Embassy, or send word to the Dominion in the Summerset Isles requesting to have additional justicars sent to Skyrim for that purpose.

Folding the register in half and pocketing it within the folds of her robe, Elenwen turned to head in herself for a hot bottle of Alto wine when a sudden commotion from one of the watchtowers captured her attention.

"By the Eight Divines, what the hell's that?!"

"It's coming this way!"

"Quick, get down!"

"What the hell is this?!" Elenwen shouted in her rush towards the Thalmor archers who dove off the watchtower and landed on the ground below. "What's going on?! Are we under attack?!"

"N-No, there's a—" one of the archers tried to finish her sentence, but couldn't.

She never had the time to because the watchtower's platform suddenly exploded, sending bits of broken logs, splinters, and rope all over the vicinity.

If Elenwen hadn't raised her arm and summoned the magicka within her to create a ward in her hand while bracing herself, she might've been critically injured by debris flying everywhere. As it was, she got out of it safe and sound, and the archers were fine too since they were decked out in Elven armor for protection.

Blowing the dust away with her arm, Elenwen started to cough so she could clear some dust from her throat and exhale it through her mouth. "Are you both alright?" she asked the archers as they coughed too, "You're not hurt, are you?"

"We're fine," the male archer stated as some other guards ran over and began to clear away the rubble. "Didn't expect something like that to come shooting towards us, though."

"What was it?" Elenwen demanded, "What crashed into the watchtower?"

"Ma'am, I think you'd better take a look at this," one of the Thalmor spellswords called out to her, tossing one of the broken logs aside as she came over to him.

"What is…it…" Elenwen started to say, but then her voice trailed off and died away as she stared down at a fresh Nord corpse. Clearing away little bits and pieces of the damage caused by this lone body, she carefully stepped over the bigger brunt of the debris and crouched down to examine the cadaver.

From the looks of it, it appeared that something big had been shoved into his chest—a battleaxe, most likely; the hole left behind was too tall and slightly wider than a war axe, or an axe used for chopping wood for that matter. A more detailed autopsy would have to be performed later to try and discern anything else, but for now it was safe to declare this man dead.

Turning to the two archers, Elenwen maneuvered out of the rubble and approached them while dusting herself off. "Where did this corpse come from? In what direction did it originate?"

"From the north," the female archer answered, pointing in that direction, "It came flying over Rimerock Burrow from somewhere past that cave."

"Then the only place nearby that's past the cave would be the ruined remains of Pinefrost Tower," Elenwen stated as she looked up towards the rocks and the hill beyond them before turning back to the archers to give an order. "Gather a team of three more men and lead them up to the tower. Investigate the area and report back to me on anything you've uncovered there."

"Yes, ma'am!" the archers saluted her and then went off to the barracks.

Turning to the direction in which Pinefrost Tower was, Elenwen scowled and bit her lip, vowing to get to the bottom of this.

…

**And there you have it. That's the prologue of this (hopefully) epic Fanfiction.**

**In case anyone is wondering why I chose to take the Alik'r side over Saadia (her real name is Iman) in the quest, **_**In My Time of Need**_**, it's because they're actually the ones telling the truth. When I checked the Elder Scrolls wikia, it states that her version of the story is inconsistent. She claims to be unaware of the Alik'r in the city, yet she knows one of them is in Dragonsreach Dungeon. Furthermore, the book entitled **_The Great War_** states that Hammerfell's great houses actually united against the Aldmeri Dominion with the Province having been at full scale war with the Dominion up until the Second Treaty of Stros M'Kai was signed. Hammerfell's success at resisting the Dominion means that Saadia/Iman is in fact lying to the Dragonborn when she shares her version of the tale.**

**As for the Civil War, I decided to pick the Imperials over the Stormcloaks because I decided to fight for them in my first playthrough of the game, but also because I think Ulfric Stormcloak is more of an antagonist than a hero to his people.**

**For instance, several citizens throughout Skyrim will mention they believe Ulfric only cares about himself and that's likely to be more true than false as his actions seem to imply that. I think this is proven when Galmar Stone-Fist tells the Dragonborn a rumor that Jarl Igmund's uncle and steward, Raerek, still worships Talos despite being aligned to the Imperials. When confronting Raerek, he says that his loyalty to them comes before his own beliefs. This could mean that Ulfric and the Stormcloaks will punish anybody for siding with the Empire, regardless of the individual's beliefs—whether they worship Talos or not.**

**Furthermore, at the end of the **_**Battle for Solitude**_** quest when General Tullius reveals that the Thalmor wanted to cause the Civil War, Ulfric states that the war has become more than a rebellion. This may imply that Ulfric may be out to not just win the war and fight another one against the Thalmor as he suspects after the quest, but also to invade the other Provinces of Tamriel so he can conquer them and then declare himself the new Emperor. I know this bit may be pure speculation on my part, but Ulfric's actions seem to be more communistic and dictatorial in my opinion. I say this because I think Ulfric might use the other races of Tamriel as slave labor while the Nords settle on their land, like what the Nazis planned to do with the Soviets, Poles, and Ukrainians if they won World War II.**

**Another thing that can be said about the Stormcloaks' cause is that they and Ulfric forget that the Emperor had no choice but to agree to the Aldmeri Dominion's demands for Skyrim's sake. Since the Empire was pretty much on the verge of losing the Great War, the Emperor had to sign the White Gold Concordat to save the Provinces of the Empire from the Dominion. This meant he had to do things he didn't want to do in order to keep the Dominion from fully invading the other Provinces.**

**One other thing about Ulfric that bothers me is that he's not helping the Dunmer who live in the Gray Quarter of Windhelm. They're not aligned to the Thalmor, but he keeps them in horrible living conditions and refuses to provide any aid to them. Ulfric could care less if the Nords in the city head into the Gray Quarter and interrogate the Dunmer through the use of torture.**

**In fact, Ulfric doesn't care about the Argonians living in the city either, nor will he aid anyone who isn't a Nord. This is revealed when Brunwulf Free-Winter asks the player to slay a group of bandits. Brunwulf states that Ulfric would help Nords when they're assaulted by bandits, but not anybody else because they aren't Nords. If Ulfric is to try and win support from others—specifically people who aren't Nords—who oppose the Empire's decision to sign the White Gold Concordat, I think he should actually do his job as the Jarl and assist anyone in need of help, whether they're Nords or not.**

**In regards to General Tullius seeking to win back the Nords' right to worship Talos through diplomatic means, I think this is something he would do considering how he says that he's come to respect the Nords after the quest, **_**Battle for Windhelm**_**. This is why Elenwen is irritated with the two Thalmor holding Thorald Gray-Many. I'm also looking to improve upon this later on in the story.**

**Speaking of Thorald Gray-Mane, since this story takes place two years after the Civil War, I decided to have him get arrested for being a Stormcloak soldier. Because the Gray-Manes support the Stormcloaks, I thought it'd be a good idea to provide a more valid reason as to why he was arrested, so I naturally thought of him being a Stormcloak soldier as he (and his brother, Avulstein, if he travels to Northwatch Keep with the player) later joins up with them at the end of the quest, **_**Missing in Action**_**. I did this because I believe simply supporting the Stormcloaks is just a matter of personal opinion/beliefs and nobody should be punished for that, whereas being in the Stormcloak army as a soldier could be cause for punishment.**

**Anyway, that's all I have to say. Feel free to comment on my speculation of events, locations, and characters of Skyrim if you want. If you have any questions about all this, or wish to comment on my speculation, feel free to ask and I'll reply in the author's notes of the second chapter. As I have already completed the prologue and chapter one, I won't be able to answer any questions until I get to the second chapter.**

**I hope you enjoy reading this story as I enjoyed writing it.**


	2. Chapter One: Ursula and Rozalin

_"Mother!"_

_ "No, Ursula, don't come any closer! Just run away!"_

_ "Mother! Mother, please open the door! Please!"_

_ "No, you must run away! Go down the trapdoor and leave for Riften immediately!"_

_ "Mother, I won't leave without you! Come with me!"_

_ "Don't argue with me! You must get out of here before that thing gets you!"_

_ "Mother!"_

_ "Hurry, Ursula, get through the trapdoor and leave through the escape tunnel!"_

_ "But Mother, I—"_

_ "No 'buts' Ursula! Get out of here now!"_

_ "Don't do this, Mother! Please come with me! I don't want to be alone!"_

_ "You won't be alone! I know you hate her as much as I do, but Aunt Maven will have to take care of you from now on!"_

_ "I don't want to stay with Aunt Maven! I want to be with you, so please don't do this Mother!"_

_ *CRASH*_

_ "You can't anymore! Now hurry, go! It's breaking through the door right now! Please, go! Hurry to Riften and go to Jarl Laila! Tell her to send soldiers here to chase it off before it follows you to the city!"_

_ "Mother, no, I—"_

_ *CRASH* *STOMP* *TINKLE* *TINKLE*_

_ "Mother! Mother!"_

_ "RUN NOW, URSULA!"_

_ *TINKLE* *STOMP* *TINKLE* *TINKLE* *STOMP* *TINKLE* *TINKLE* *CRUNCH* *SPLICH*_

_ "Eep!"_

_ …_

_ "M-Mother…?"_

_ …_

_ "Mother, p-please s-say s-something…"_

_ …_

_ "M-Mother…?"_

_ …_

_ "M-Moth…e-e-e…ah…ah…ah…KYAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"_

…

"Waaahhhh!"

Bolting upright in bed, Ursula breathed heavily as her heart pounded against her ribcage, beads of cold perspiration trickling down her face like raindrops against a window. Locks of her short, blue hair fell in front of her face when she put a gloved hand to her forehead while her free hand tightly clenched the covers for dear life. Her bracelet brushed against her hair, the several strands covering it from view leaving it unseen by anyone who would've been facing her at that moment had they been in her room.

She didn't dare look up, keeping her head tipped down with her unblinking—and rather shaky—gaze on the covers, lest she see her mother's corpse hanging on the jagged edges of the hole through the door…as well as the double edged Daedric battleaxe protruding from her back. That image had remained firmly ingrained on her mind ever since that fateful day eight years ago, rooted deeply in her psych and was the source for a vast majority of her trauma. She couldn't sit still for five seconds without having trembling uncontrollably at the sight of what had happened to the only parent she had left, as well as a glimpse of what had taken that parent away.

That…T-that thing, whatever it was, _killed her mother._

By this point Ursula was already well on the verge of having a panic attack, unaware of her current surroundings due to being in a totally disorientated state. Believing she still was living in her old farmhouse roughly past Crystaldrift Cave and Snow-Shod Farm, in the Autumnal Forest, she shut her eyes real tight and pulled her legs closer to her chest. Letting go of the covers, she brought both of her hands to the back of her head to hold it down so as to prevent herself from looking up. Awaiting the dreadful battleaxe to come down on her at any moment, Ursula mentally said her prayers while timidly biting her lower lip in fearful anticipation…

"Goddammit, Arniel! Look at what you did now!"

"Oh, what had I done, Enthir?! What is it that I've done to draw your ire?!"

Until her head jolted upright at the sound of two familiar voices coming from the other side of her door. Eyes widening as the pupils grew to their normal size, she whipped her head around the room and breathed a small sigh of relief upon finding herself to be back in her own bedroom in the Hall of Countenance at the College of Winterhold.

It had only been a nightmare, after all. It was vividly real—for a time anyway, but that was in the past now. Her dreadfully traumatic moment of terror ended long ago. Now all that remained on her conscious was but a footprint of that memory.

"You startled my assistant with all your shouting, that's what!"

"You're shouting too, you know?!"

"That's because of what I've just said you have done, plus I'm getting sick of putting up your shit! Now go bother someone else! I've got to check on my assistant!"

Hearing what sounded like a heated argument between the two scholars outside her door, Ursula patted out the wrinkles in the top and front middle pieces of her three piece robe, which was mostly a few different shades of purple that also had a bright tint of yellow along some of the edges. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she fixed the bottom piece so that it covered the front of her legs while sticking her feet in the lavender colored boots by the side of her bed.

The sides of the bottom piece were open, revealing the right side of her right leg and the left side of her left one, though the piece had been designed like that so the wearer could maneuver in combat more fluidly. It was made especially for mages who felt they were being held back by the more heavier fabrics used to make standard robes, as it was of a lighter material that most fabrics, plus splitting the whole robe into three simple pieces instead of a hood and a burly robe made it easier to change into. Of course, some people preferred putting a whole robe on over their heads and sticking their arms up through the bottom to get them in the sleeves, but Ursula wasn't like them. She preferred to move around while casting spells to get herself out of a sticky situation she accidently landed herself into on occasion.

Holding the lower half of her arms out in front of her, she opened her hands up in front of her and stared into them, recalling how she came this far in her life without her mother. When she had arrived in Riften two hours after her mother's death, the guards found her walking around in a sort of trance. Concerned for her safety since they knew she was related to Maven Black-Briar, the proud owner of the best meadery in all of Skyrim—maybe even the Empire—they brought her before her aunt who reluctantly allowed her to stay in her home. Then Jarl Laila had been informed of the situation and ordered a few guards to go inform Ursula's mother at the farmhouse.

They came back a while later with the unconscious form of Ursula's mother and news of the damage done to the farm. Healers tried to save her, but they were too late. The deadly wound dealt by the thing that assaulted her was already too severe to mend.

By the time Ursula came to her senses her mother was almost dead. During her final hours, she spoke at great length with her daughter about what would happen to her once she'd no longer be among the living. She told her that she'd be reunited with her father in the afterlife and that they'd both be watching over her from above. Ursula was urged to continue her studies in magic and to attend the College of Winterhold when she turned eighteen and to be wary of her aunt. Finally, when Maven herself and the rest of the family had attended her bedside before she passed away, she uttered a curse on most of them. If her daughter was harmed in any way whatsoever—physically, emotionally, mentally—by their hands, she would punish them from beyond the grave.

Ursula's cousin, Ingun, had been spared by the curse, primarily because she was the only other person in the family who showed legitimate care for her. It was a shame the rest of her family wasn't like that at all; if anything, she was one of the few role model citizens in the whole city, even if she had an interest in poisons.

"Hey, Ursula?" one of the scholars called out while knocking on her door, "You alright in there?"

Snapping back to attention, Ursula nearly fell off the bed after having been a little startled, but she hastily regained her balance and folded her hands on her lap. "U-Um, yes, Enthir," she called back shyly, still a tad afraid and tremulous from having just woke up from a nightmare, "I-I'm fine."

"You sure about that? You don't mind if I come in, do you?"

"U-Uh, n-no, not at all."

As the door was pushed inward, a middle aged Dark Elf with light gray hair poked his head in to see how she was doing. "You okay, Ursula?" he asked in concern while going over to the chair on the right side of the room to sit down in it, "You look like you've seen a ghost. Did Arniel wake you up?"

"S-Something like that, yeah," she responded, shyly making eye contact with Enthir from beneath her bangs, feeling very apprehensive over whether or not she should tell him of her nightmare despite him already knowing what it was about. In the end she just decided to state the obvious and hope he made a bull's eye on the first shot. "I-I just had a bad dream, that's all."

"You sure it wasn't Arniel?"

"I-I'm sure."

"Same dream as usual?"

Ursula timidly nodded. "Y-yes."

Enthir raised his hand to scratch his chin. "How long's it been?" he asked while crossing his arms, his voice taking on a concerned tone. "Since, well…you know…"

"Eight years."

"Eight years, huh…that's quite a long time," Enthir commented, sounding melancholic while imagining what it must've been like for his assistant to lose her mother at a very young age, especially after her father was killed in combat against a gang of bandits two years before. That put Ursula at age fourteen when he died, and then she was sixteen when her mother finally passed away.

Eight years later, Ursula was now already showing signs of becoming an aspiring scholar like the Dark Elf at the age of twenty-four.

"You've come a long way since then," Enthir complimented in an attempt to cheer her up. "It's difficult losing both of your parents, but I'm sure they're proud of you. Even though they're not here to help you in any way they can, you managed to pull through and look where it got you now. Here, at the College, now on the road to becoming a scholar. That's quite impressive seeing as how you've done great things in life."

"O-Oh, i-it's nothing," Ursula blushed in embarrassment as she tipped her head down, shyly touching the tips of her index fingers together and pushing them up against one another. "I-I just stick to my studies and practice casting spells when I can."

"I wish the same could be said for J'Zargo," Enthir chuckled lightly, closing his eyes while resting his elbow on the chair's arm, holding his head in the palm of his hand. "That Khajiit is so arrogant he makes Ulfric Stormcloak look bad, and that's saying something."

"Enthir, please don't say things like that about the other apprentices," Ursula gently chided him as she looked up. "It hurts their feelings and can make them believe they don't have what it takes to be full-fledged mages."

"Well, in a way it's true. At least Ulfric had the decency to try and give hope to his army and others who supported his cause, even though all he used were honeyed words," Enthir stated, leaning forward with his hands folded underneath his chin and his elbows now resting on his knees. "J'Zargo, on the other hand, doesn't give a damn whether he's kind to others or not. If he sees a chance to snobbishly mock someone, he'll take it. In fact, if there's one thing that makes him different from Ulfric, it'd be that he's actually honest. He looks down on Brelyna and Onmund because he thinks he's unique because he's the only Khajiit attending the College. If they become scholars before him, I'd say the tables have turned in their favor. He does deserve it, after all—you know what they say: treat others the way you want to be treated."

"Even though he doesn't have the right to do it to us, we shouldn't do the same to him because of that," Ursula countered, fiddling with her thumbs.

Enthir leaned back in the chair and laughed, withdrawing a cloth from a pocket inside his jacket and picking an apple from the bowl Ursula left out for anyone who wanted to take some fruit. "You got me there," he said after swallowing a piece of the apple down his throat when he bit into it. "I know it's our job to help the apprentices; that's why I acquire what they feel they need so they can continue their studies."

Ursula giggled as well, glad to have become firm friends with someone like Enthir. She did work with him, after all, given how she owned it to him for helping her fit in at the College. "Anyway," she spoke up after a bit of light hearted humor among themselves, "what was going on with Arniel? Was he bothering you over something?"

"Sure thing," Enthir answered as he pulled out a weird looking soul gem from his pocket. "He kept pestering me to sell this to him, but I said it wasn't for sale." Handing the gem over to her, Ursula accepted it and looked it over for a few seconds while feeling the odd shape in her hands.

"This soul gem appears to have been warped by magic or some type of soul imprisoned in it," she declared a moment later after carefully scrutinizing the thing. "I'd say it's no longer useful for enchanting equipment or recharging an enchanted weapon."

"Right," Enthir nodded, "I showed it to Sergius when I first bought it from a miner who sold it to me, saying his brother, a spellsword, captured the soul of a deformed dremora, and he told me the exact same thing you just said. Arniel apparently wants this soul gem instead of the regular ones Sergius provides."

"But why would he prefer this warped one over any other?" Ursula inquired, tapping her finger against one of the gem's pointy tips. "What's so important about this particular soul gem that he must have it instead of a normal one?"

"Good questions," Enthir commented as he pointed at her. "I inquired the same thing when I spoke with Arniel about it, though he's keeping his trap shut. He's not doing it just to me either—he's closed mouthed to everyone here, including Phinis, his close friend and my best customer."

"So Phinis is being kept in the dark too, huh?" Ursula asked rhetorically, looking back down at the strange soul gem before handing it back to Enthir. "That's not like Arniel. Phinis is the only person he really talks to, so it doesn't make sense for him to not share the details of what he's doing with his best friend."

"His only friend, I should add;" the Dark Elf scholar pointed out, "since you've attended the College for six years, I'm sure you know as well as I do that Arniel doesn't have any friends here other than Phinis."

"That is true," Ursula nodded in agreement, "though I'm sure he's probably too busy with whatever he's doing to schedule some time in with everyone else. Tell me, Enthir, did Arniel ask you for anything else besides the soul gem?"

"As a matter of fact, he did," Enthir replied, taking a piece of paper out from his pants' pocket while biting the apple again. "When he told me he wanted to buy this he also wanted exactly ten Dwemer cogs. I told him I can acquire those for him and put out a request to Birna inquiring if she can hire some adventurers to bring them over to the Frozen Hearth where I'll pay them for the job. From what I can gather, I assume Arniel is working on a project involving the Dwemer."

"The Dwemer?" Ursula asked as she cocked her head to the side in confusion. "They disappeared centuries ago, didn't they?"

"Yep, they sure did," Enthir nodded, "so I suspect Arniel is trying to discover why they vanished. Either that or he's trying to create one of their constructs and see if he can power it, but I doubt it since those things are powered by regular soul gems and—if I'm correct—possibly Dwemer gyros, amongst other power sources if possible."

"B-But if he's basing his project on their disappearance, isn't he aware there could be some serious consequences of pursuing this as a goal?" Ursula inquired nervously, afraid that Arniel's actions could bring about a second Great Collapse that would destroy what was left of Winterhold.

Most of the few remaining residents still distrusted the College because it was left mostly intact after the Great Collapse in 4E 122 because they believed it was the mages' doing. While Ursula understood that, she still felt they shouldn't have overlooked the possibility that it might've been a result of Red Mountain's eruption. Then again, that was just the common opinion she and the other mages shared, and the townsfolk had the right to have their own opinion.

"I don't think he is, but we'll worry about that if all hell is about to break loose," Enthir said as he stood up, still holding the devoured apple's core in his cloth. "Now come on, I'd say it's time we head to the Frozen Hearth for a bite to eat. What do you say?"

A small, shy smile spread across Ursula's face as she stood up. "S-Sure, dinner sounds good after a quick nap."

"Alright then, let's head out," Enthir responded and walked out of her room with her, leaving the Hall of Countenance and heading over to the gate.

"Oh, Ursula, Enthir," Drevis Neloren, another Dark Elf, called out to them as they were passing by, "good evening to you both! Heading out I take it?"

"Ah, Drevis," Enthir replied amiably and pulled the wizard of Illusion magic over to him, "just the man I wanted to see."

"Ooohhh, why? Why?" the wizard asked gleefully, looking so happy he could've bounced off the pillars holding the roof up around the open courtyard. "Is there something you want to talk about with me? Something you want to do with me?"

"Along those lines, yeah," Enthir answered, putting his arm around Drevis' shoulder. "You wouldn't happen to know telekinesis, do you?"

Drevis' eyes lit up like a happy puppy. "Oh, yes! Yes, I do! I most certainly know how to pull that off! I am a wizard after all! Are we going to perform an experiment?" he exclaimed, gladly clapping his hands together.

"Something like that," Enthir said as he drew closer to him and whispered something quietly in his ear before pulling away from his colleague. "Think you could do that?" the Dark Elf scholar then asked, smiling mischievously while handing the apple's core to the wizard.

"Sure, it sounds like fun! I'll definitely get the snow ready right now!" Drevis said as he used telekinesis to pick some snow off the ground and covered the core with it to make a perfectly round snowball.

"U-Um, Enthir?" Ursula spoke up shyly, swallowing a lump in her throat since she didn't like where this was going. "W-what are you up t-to?"

"You'll see," Enthir turned to answer her as they reached the main gate. "Stop worrying about it and just wait for the show in three…"

Drevis prepared to fire the snowball…

"Two…"

Magicka began to gather within the palm of the wizard's hand…

"One!"

Drevis propelled the snowball forward just as Enthir ushered Ursula out the gate when a sudden cry was followed by the clatter of objects hitting the stone pavement inside the courtyard by the Hall of Attainment.

"Hey, who threw that snowball at me?!" the two of them heard Arniel shout from behind the wall as they walked away. "Ah, my notes! They're scattering all over the place and blowing in the wind! I need them for my experiments! Oh, this is a disaster!"

"How's that for a cold shoulder?" Enthir asked as he walked down the bridge alongside Ursula and laughed. "That's what he gets for pissing me off all the time."

"He should put on an extra robe so he doesn't freeze to death." Ursula giggled, unable to help herself even though it was a little mean. After all, it had only been a slightly harmless prank.

…

"Ah, this is the life…" Enthir spoke softly while dipping his spoon back in his vegetable soup. "There's nothing like a nice, warm bowl of soup on a cold day like today."

"Indeed," Ursula agreed, taking a sip of hot Alto wine to wash down a piece of one of her grilled chicken breasts. "Though it must be the same day considering how you always have soup."

"Heh, that's right," the middle aged Dark Elf scholar chuckled as he turned to face her. "You know me pretty well. I guess six years at the College has taught you a lot, huh?"

"Yes, I've learned much during my stay here," Ursula closed her eyes and took in the smell of her meal to savor it. "It took a bit of getting used to the cold weather at first, and I love the College so much that it's become a home away from home for me."

"Almost like a second house?" Enthir guessed.

"You could say that," Ursula responded as she opened her eyes and cut herself another piece off one of the breasts with her fork.

"In all honesty," the innkeeper, Dagur, joined in the conversation while polishing an empty glass, "I'd prefer if the College was elsewhere, but at least you mages pay your tabs while you're here."

"Still don't trust us, huh?" Enthir casually asked while looking up at him from his soup.

"Not really, though I don't let it get to me that much because mages are my primary patrons so I can stay in business," Dagur shook his head as he first spoke, then bent over to place the glass on a shelf under the counter. "Plus I always get a cut from the little side business you work at in my cellar."

The Dark Elf closed his eyes and smiled. "Always glad to be of help."

"And what about what I pay you?" a High Elf wizard inquired as he entered the inn's main hall and sat down next to Ursula. "Dagur, don't tell me you don't value my patronage either."

Dagur held up his hands in a defensive motion. "That's not what I meant, Nelacar, nor did I imply it, but you're right. I apologize for not thinking of you just then."

"No offense taken," Nelacar said, placing a copy of a book entitled _The Art of War Magic_ on the counter and opening it up to the thirty-seventh page. "I'll take the usual, please."

"Right," Dagur nodded and set a mammoth snout in a cooking spit followed by a bit of salt a few moments later, "one mammoth stake, coming up."

Looking at the High Elf from beneath her bangs, Ursula swallowed heavily as the thought of initiating a conversation with him. She was largely uncertain he'd just brush her off rudely if she gave the wrong impression or said something he considered to be stupid, but he wouldn't mind if she just asked him something about how his day was or something. At least that's what she thought, though she didn't want to make incorrect assumptions and have them come back to get her later.

Nelacar was always busy with his own research and experiments ever since he left the college after an incident in which his master, Malyn Varen, murdered some of his apprentices while studying Azura's Star, a Daedric artifact presented to a worthy follower of the Daedric Prince, Azura. The fallen instructor had been slowly dying and as the Star functioned as a powerful soul gem, he hoped to seal his soul in the artifact to gain immortality at the price of imprisonment. As far as Ursula had heard from Enthir about what had happened, Malyn had been exiled to a sunken fort on the coast of Lake Ilinalta known as Ilinalta's Deep, leaving it unclear if he ever succeeded in his task.

Clearing her throat, she tried to think of a way to begin the conversation, something she could say to let Nelacar know she meant no offense towards him. She didn't really talk to him that much, and the few times she did he always made a brief remark and politely asked if he could be excused to his research. Ursula respected that and she didn't want to take up too much of his time, but she wanted to try and become more comfortable speaking to him, yet nothing was coming to her mind. Perhaps she could try and put out a simple question and see where things went from there, or just leave it at that.

Turning her head to him, Ursula gathered up what little courage she had and began to speak softly so as not to disturb the High Elf too much. "S-So, u-um, Nelacar," her first words coming out shyly, "how are things, u-uh…going?"

When Nelacar sighed she was seized by the sudden fear she had indeed bothered him, though that didn't seem to be the case when he answered her. "Slow, nowadays. I've just received a letter from an old acquaintance of mine from Falkreath saying he discovered something he thought I should look at. I'm expecting his arrival any day now since he last wrote to let me know he made it to Windhelm. Now, if you don't mind, please excuse me to my reading."

Relieved, Ursula exhaled a breath she'd been holding as she mentally congratulated herself on a job well done. It was a shame that achievement was short lived, however, because the very next moment she suddenly jumped as something landed on the counter between her and Enthir with a thud. It was so unexpected she nearly fell off her stool when she lost her balance, but luckily she regained it just in the nick of time when the Dark Elf scholar helped pull her up.

"Easy there, Ursula," Enthir said as he pointed to the woman who just sat next to him, "it's only Birna."

"O-oh, u-uh, right!" Ursula nodded, blushing in embarrassment while trying to regain her composure. "S-sorry, I-I wasn't paying attention."

"That's quite alright," Birna responded, leaning over the counter to shoot Dagur a glare to keep him from chuckling at the shy mage's sudden scare. "I didn't mean to scare you in the first place, so I should be the one apologizing."

"I-it's okay," Ursula stuttered nervously, "I-I'm fine."

"If you say so," Birna shrugged.

There was a moment of silence as Enthir picked the object up to examine it briefly before he turned to the shopkeeper beside him. "Birna, you mind telling us where you got this Dragon Claw by any chance?"

"Some adventurer sold it to me for some gold a couple days ago and said it would lead me to a valuable piece of treasure located in some Nordic tomb named Yngol Barrow," Birna explained unenthusiastically, taking a sip of ale Dagur handed her after giving Nelacar his mammoth steak. "Though I don't see how it could be useful if it's sitting around my shop collecting dust and the guy who handed it over wasn't willing or even smart enough to take it himself."

"So why not sell it to us and we'll take it back to the College?" Enthir suggested while taking a satchel out of his pocket and opening it up. "We can show it to the Arch-Mage and see if he thinks the barrow would be a good place to have an archaeological excavation."

"Didn't you tell me the other day you needed supplies for an excavation of Saarthal?" the pawnbroker inquired, narrowing her eyes and raising the right eyebrow.

"Yeah, but we'll see if we can get to Yngol Barrow sometime afterwards," Enthir replied while pulling out some gold. "So how much does this Dragon Claw cost?"

Birna held out her hand while pulling out her own satchel. "Fifty gold; no more, no less."

"Alright, that's a deal," Enthir handed her eighteen gold coins and reached inside his satchel for the rest of the payment.

"Just one more thing," Birna added while making the transaction. "If you find anything the College doesn't need, bring it to my place. I'm in need of more merchandise for the shop."

"Will do," Ursula nodded.

…

Meanwhile, far away in the city of Solitude, the streets were busy as people were heading all over the place. Three vendors around the well in the market district were selling their wares, as were the storeowners who frequently had much business. Carts were brought up through the main gate by laborers from the East Empire Company Warehouse, carrying goods brought in on ships from various ports across Tamriel. Soldiers of the army were training for combat over in the large courtyard of Castle Dour, the former palace of the Jarls of Solitude until it had been converted into an Imperial garrison for the army. Guards patrolled the streets to keep a watch out for crime, keeping their eyes open for any sort of suspicious folk wandering around.

It was in this city that Rozalin, the seventeen year old half-Nord, half-Breton niece to Jarl Elisif the Fair, the High Queen of Skyrim, resided. Locks of her blonde hair swayed in the wind, passing right in front of her red eyes as she looked down at Solitude from her bedroom window within the magnificent Blue Palace, built during a long period of peace for the Jarls after Castle Dour went to the army. Sighing sadly, Rozalin narrowed her eyes as she continued to gaze upon her aunt's people, feeling like she was the only person in the whole city to not be like them.

She was of a high social status, and her aunt spent time with her when she wasn't busy with her duties as High Queen, but that wasn't what made her feel so…empty. It wasn't a question of loneliness as she had several friends down in the marketplace, at Castle Dour, and even in her own home. Rather than either of those things, Rozalin lacked the outside world.

Ever since her birth parents had died—illness claimed her Nordic mother and her Breton father fell victim to an assassin's dagger—when she was nine years old, Rozalin had been cooped up within Solitude, without the chance to ever leave the city limits nor step foot into the outskirts to visit the East Empire Company docks and watch the sea. Her aunt's steward, Falk Firebeard, told her she could see much of the land and sea from the palace's upper balcony, but it still wasn't enough for her. She wanted to be free from her restraints, her shackles undone so she could go out beyond Solitude and explore the country.

Closing the window, Rozalin turned around and walked over to the dresser. She may have wanted to go out into Skyrim, but her attire proved she was meant to be an aristocrat more than an adventurer.

Her long black dress, red at the bottom with yellow fabric at the top and a red stripe going down the middle, almost covered her whole body, leaving only the upper area of her chest exposed. The sleeves, disconnected from the dress, were just the right length to keep them covered, though they left her shoulders uncovered as well as her hands. Two very long ribbons, one red and one yellow, were tied around her dress with a red bow around her neck.

The black silk stockings on her legs went down to cover her feet, which were fitting into a pair of bronze high heels of the best quality Taarie and Endarie, the twins who ran the dress shop, Radiant Raiment, could design. In fact, Rozalin's whole dress and the jewelry she wore had been crafted by them, and she did browse their store from time to time, though she preferred to have copies of her favorite dress made because she liked it over anything else the twins had for sale.

A gold ruby ring rested comfortably on her middle finger, just as flawless sapphires finely cut into egg-shaped pieces were embedded in the brooch in the middle of the yellow bow at the top of her dress and her gold necklace. Another couple flawless sapphires were used for her earrings while a collar affixed with flawless amethyst stones of the same quality as the sapphires held her blond hair up.

Looking at herself in the mirror hanging above the dresser, Rozalin raised her hand up in front of herself and gathered up the magicka her parents taught her to use in the event she had defend herself or to seek her own entertainment when bored. Candlelight, one of the most basic Alteration spells many apprentice mages knew, formed a ball of light big enough to fit inside a person's hand, though the energy it contained floated in the air near the caster. One such ball appeared in her hand and was about to take off, but Rozalin partially closed her fingers to keep it in her grasp. The spell only lasted a minute, and when it wore off so too did her desire to stay in the palace all day.

She could go into the Market District all by herself without an entourage of guards because, well, there already were so many of them throughout the city. She'd be fine on her own, and even if she was assaulted she could fight back by utilizing the several destruction spells she learned by watching the court wizard, Sybil Stentor.

Speaking of which, she might as well go see her and check to see if she finally had a free moment to teach her some magic, though it was highly likely Sybil was still busy as always. That would be just like her, given how she had important duties she was responsible for performing on behalf of the High Queen. It wouldn't hurt if she made a quick check before heading into the marketplace to visit Angeline's Aromatics.

Opening the dresser's top drawer, Rozalin pulled out a knapsack and slung it around her arm to let it hang from her shoulder. Picking up her satchel and pocketing it before taking a basket she received as a gift from her deceased mother, she then went to the door and pulled it towards her, stepping out into the hall and shutting the door behind her.

As she made her way out into the main hall, her eyes caught a glimpse of Sybil speaking with Bryling, one of the two Thanes who served her aunt, while Falk conversed with Jarl Elisif over a register of products imported from Windhelm. As soon as Bryling walked away and sat down to converse with her husband, Erikur, Rozalin got her chance.

"Sybil," she called out and passed by the curved staircase when the court wizard turned and saw her, "do you have a moment?"

"Yes," Sybil answered, bowing before the niece of her queen as a gesture of respect, "what is it you require, Miss Rozalin?"

"I was wondering if you had some time to teach me a bit of magic," Rozalin requested in the hope the court wizard had some free time, still aware that Sybil might not have any time to spare at all. "If not now, then would another occasion be better?"

"My apologies, Miss Rozalin, but I'm afraid I don't," Sybil responded as she closed her eyes and shook her head. "My duties as court wizard take precedence, so I may not be able to fulfill your request. I'm not sure if I ever may be able to, though I'll see if anything can be done about that in the near future if possible."

"Oh…I see," Rozalin replied, looking down in disappointment with her hope dashed. "I understand, I won't keep you from your work. Please excuse me." Turning around, she began to head down the stairs to her left but stopped when her aunt called out to her.

"Rozalin?" Elisif inquired as she watched her niece take her leave from the throne room, having finished her discussion with Falk. "Are you heading out?"

"Why, yes, Aunt Elisif," she responded, smiling sadly while closing her eyes. "Don't worry, I'll be back in a little bit. I don't mean to interrupt your duties."

"Interrupt what I'm doing?" Elisif asked, concerned that her niece was upset about something. "Why do you think you're disturbing me? You didn't do anything wrong."

"She had asked if I was free to give her some lessons in magic, but unfortunately I don't have the time," Sybil explained just as Elisif stood up and walked over to Rozalin.

"So is that why you're feeling down, Rozalin?" the High Queen inquired of her niece, taking her hand in her own to provide some comfort. "Do you really wish to learn more about magic?"

Sighing, Rozalin came back up the stairs and drew closer to her aunt. "Yes," she answered her truthfully as Elisif embraced her in a hug and gently rubbed the back of her head. "Though I don't wish to bother you, so I'll stay out of your way."

"It's alright, it's no trouble at all," the High Queen consoled her. "There's nothing wrong with making a decision about what you would like to do with your life. If you want to study magic, I can see about making arrangements to have a mage from the College of Winterhold come here if Sybil's schedule is tied up."

"You can?" Rozalin looked up at her aunt, a small smile spreading across her face. "You can really send for a mage on my behalf?"

"Milady, I object to this," Sybil spoke out after Elisif had nodded to confirm the correct answer to her niece's questions. "As you know, the College of Winterhold is not to be trusted for its utter secrecy. They choose to keep the general public in the dark rather than come out into the open. As your court wizard, I urge you to rethink your words and to consider what one of the College mages could do if ever summoned here."

"I'm full aware of that, but I can't just stand idly by while my niece is unhappy," Elisif declared, turning to face her court wizard. "As the High Queen, it's my duty to protect my country from those who would seek to harm its citizens. I must provide assistance to my people no matter what race they are, with whatever is available on hand. Those who seek to take what they want through the use of force, stealing from others and murdering them in cold blood, will not be tolerated and shall be justly punished. That goes for everyone, even my own family. Everybody deserves a chance for happiness, and if I deny them that right, I have failed in my duties as High Queen."

There was a brief round of applause from several members of her court, plus a few nearby guards standing on duty or patrolling close by. Facing each of them individually, she smiled at them all as a gesture of thanks. They heard her and listened well to her reasoning, standing up for her beliefs and staying by her side as loyal servants of her, the High Queen, the citizens of Solitude, and the people of Skyrim.

Seeing the mass agreement with her queen, Sybil bowed her head in respect. "Of course, milady, as you wish. My apologies for disagreeing with your decision."

"There's no need for that," Elisif looked at her court wizard, still smiling as she released Rozalin. "Your perspective on the matter is welcome and I do highly consider it. If it'll please you, I shall write to the College's Arch-Mage and inquire of him which of the mages there are the most trustworthy."

"I hold no objection to that," Sybil stated, choosing to compromise rather than argue with her queen. "But how do you suppose you'll go about this? We don't know anyone who attends the College, and anyone who does gain admittance hardly speaks with anyone of their decision."

"Perhaps I could be of some assistance?"

Rising from his chair, a male, brown haired Nord approached the three of them with his arms crossed. "I believe I know of someone who's currently attending the College. I can send for her, though it may take a while as the letter will have to go to Riften first so my acquaintances there can write to her. They know her better that I do, but I'm sure she'll be the right person for the task."

"Very well, Erikur," Elisif bowed her head as a gesture of appreciation, "thank you."

"You're quite welcome, my queen," Erikur bowed and returned to his wife's side.

Turning her gaze back upon her niece, Elisif smiled at Rozalin as she stroked her face. "Will that do? Do you think you'll be able to wait that long until the mage arrives?"

"Yes, Aunt Elisif," Rozalin's smile grew wider as she spoke, closing her eyes and giving her aunt a hug. "I'll most certainly count the days and practice what I know so far while continuing my studies at the Bard's College."

"Wonderful," Elisif said, rubbing the top of Rozalin's head, "I'm so happy to have such a beautifully sweet niece like you."

Lifting her heels up so she could reach her aunt's head, Rozalin shut her eyes as she gave her a small peck on the cheek before pulling away from her to head down the stairs. "I'm going down to the apothecary for a short visit. I'll be back in a bit," she said, sounding more enthusiastic than when she inquired if the High Queen could call for a mage to teach her magic as she descended the staircase.

"Alright, see you soon," Elisif replied before returning to her throne.

"That was quite a magnificent speech, Milady," her steward, Falk, complimented as she sat back down. "You truly do have what it takes to be the High Queen. Torygg would be very proud of you."

"I know," Elisif said, looking at him and smiling to show her appreciation. "Thank you, Falk. Without you and the other members of my court, as well as General Tullius and the Imperial army here in Solitude, I would not have made it this far in my reign."

Falk bowed to show her respect. "You are quite welcome, my queen. It's been an honor to serve you and your late husband. Hopefully your reign won't ever come to a quick ending and last long enough for the bards to sing much of your deeds as High Queen of Skyrim."

"Yes," Elisif agreed, "the bards need to pass on the truth of what I've done for my country so that future generations may look to me as a role model inspiring peace."

Falk simply closed his eyes for a moment and nodded, opening them as something crossed his mind. "By the way, Milady, I understand why you want a mage from the College of Winterhold and I do fully agree with you on your decision, but I must ask—not out of disrespect, but with the same concern I had for Torygg's life. Are you sure of this? I can see Sybil's point and just thinking about it reminds me of when Ulfric Stormcloak came and murdered Torygg with the Thu'um."

Elisif nodded. "I am indeed sure of my actions, and I too think the same as you do, but my niece has been unhappy for so long. She's never left the city after her parents died, but she wants to see what lies beyond these walls yet is afraid to take that first step. It's my duty to do whatever I can do as her aunt to help her in any way I can.

…

The streets of Solitude couldn't be even cleaner than they were if they had tried, as the city already shined with all the radiance one could find from within the Temple of the Divines. That certainly said something since putting cleanliness right next to godliness was a rule the citizens seemed to follow on an everyday basis. It was so unpolluted one could clearly see his or her face in possibly the dirtiest window should one ever be found. Although, that would be more like trying to find a lockpick in a chest of books, especially since the lockpick could be stuck in between the pages.

As Rozalin sauntered through the palace's front door, strolling past the guard leaning against one of the pillars and waving to her, she looked up at the clear, blue sky. Holding her hand above her eyes to shield them from the sunlight, she inhaled a breath of fresh air then exhaled it before passing through the archway into the Avenues District.

Walking past the Thanes' houses and the Bard's College, she turned her head to gaze at each one to admire the craftsmanship imprinted over the stonework by the masons who constructed them. The untenanted Proudspire Manor just down the street was of equally breathtaking construction, and the Hall of the Dead now at her right was just as marvelous. They were very beautiful buildings, standing proud and tall above the houses of the three street vendors and their families.

By contrast, those homes didn't look too accommodating yet they still provided the necessities required by the tenants since there were no complaints from any of them about horrible living conditions such as poor construction and skeever infestations among other things. Even so, the poorer houses had a certain beauty to them not found in the more majestic living quarters of the upper classes. They conveyed a message telling all who'd listen of the hardships one faced when able to only afford so little and struggle to get what was needed rather than focus on what one wanted. It was a difficult way to live, though some were content with that lifestyle, never asking for much more than doing what made them happy, fascinated by the smaller things in life.

Coming to the Market District, Rozalin moved aside to let some of the younger children run by and play, stopping briefly to say hello to the little youngsters before continuing on her way to Angeline's Aromatics. The fresh smell of fish, fruit, and vegetables from Addvar's and Jala's stalls was enough to make her salivate with hunger, so she thought about making a quick stop to pick up some food for the palace chef, Odar, to cook for dinner later. Perhaps she could also purchase some of Evette's spiced wine as a thank-you gift for her aunt and Erikur.

Arriving at the door to the apothecary, Rozalin cleared her throat before knocking on the door twice to inform Angeline and her niece, Vivienne Onis, know she was coming in. Grabbing the knob and turning it to the right, she made sure no one was on the other side of the door as she slowly pushed it open. "Hello!" she called out as she stepped inside, her eyes closed with a wide smile on her face, the bells above the door ringing to announce her presence. "Angeline, Vivienne, I'm here!"

"Oh, good to see you Rozalin," Angeline answered from behind the counter, pouring some Black Briar Mead into a cup and going over to set it on a little table nearby. "Please, do come in. Vivienne will be back in a few minutes; she just ran over to Bits and Pieces to pick up a couple of books I could use. Why don't you take a seat?"

"I shall, thank you," Rozalin bowed in respect for her elder, appreciating the drink her host provided for her. Sitting down, she placed her basket down next to the chair and looked across the table at the elderly Breton woman. "So how are things going today?"

"Everything's alright, my dear," Angeline said, smiling at her. "I just got in a new shipment of ingredients for perfumes, so feel free to take a look at them later. They're just in the backroom, waiting to be put on stock in a few minutes."

"Thank you, Angeline," Rozalin closed her eyes as she sipped her mead. "I'll be sure to look through them for anything that catches my fancy."

The aged Breton took a sip of her own mead before saying, "You're welcome. It's because of customers like you who help keep a poor old woman in business that I'm able to stay open. I'm also very grateful to you and my other frequent patrons who've stayed by our side when the Stormcloaks killed Fura a couple years back."

Rozalin remembered that well. Six weeks after her daughter had been killed while on a scouting patrol near Whiterun, Angeline begged her to speak with Captain Aldis on her behalf. It was with a heavy heart Aldis related Fura's death to her after the young noblewoman ordered him to speak, and that he kept it secret so as not to hurt Angeline with the truth. Rozalin understood his reasoning and offered to talk with the apothecary for him, opting to be the bearer of bad news instead of him. However, when she stepped back into the apothecary, Angeline and Vivienne could already tell that Fura wouldn't be coming home.

Ever since that day, her customers would linger in the shop a while longer than they were originally going to, sharing their own stories of family losses and helping each other overcome them. Even Rozalin would come for a visit and chat with her, speaking of her parents on some occasions and talking of her activities and what she did with her time in the palace.

"My parents and Aunt Elisif say nobles have duties to uphold to their people," Rozalin said, a small smile on her face as she chatted quietly and took another sip of mead. "They are bound to represent them, listen to their pleas, and provide what help is available, otherwise they rule poorly and soil the population with corruption."

"Those are wise words, Rozalin," Angeline commented, looking deep into the girl's eyes. "Never forget them, lest you fall prey to the poisonous motives of corruption yourself."

"I won't," Rozalin shook her head, "I shall follow the path set out for me by my parents and Aunt Elisif. Their words are my guide, and they make sure I never stray from the path. Should that ever happen, I shall do whatever I must to atone for whatever sins I commit."

"Excellent," the Breton elder nodded in agreement, "that's all anyone ever asks of you. Be a great noble, Rozalin. Treat your people with kindness and always move forward. No matter what hardships you face, the strength of your will shall always overcome them so you may find success even in the darkest of times."

The bells rang again as the shop door opened up and a young Breton woman stepped inside, removing two books from a basket she had been carrying and placing them on the counter. "Aunt Angeline," she said as she turned to look at them, waving to Rozalin when she noticed her, "I'm back with those books you wanted."

"Wonderful, Vivienne," Angeline smiled at her niece before returning her gaze to Rozalin for a brief moment. "If you'll excuse me, dear, I have to look at those books and find a couple spots for them on my bookshelf so they're not sitting around collecting dust."

"Of course, Angeline," Rozalin said, bowing her head as a gesture to excuse her host, "thank you for the mead."

"You're very welcome, my dear," Angeline replied as she stood up and took the books, _Song of the Alchemist_ and _Harvesting Frostbite Spider Venom_, from the counter. Going into the back room, she turned around to wave at Rozalin before disappearing up the staircase around the corner to the left.

"Hey, Rozalin," Vivienne said as she went behind the counter to gather some alchemical ingredients up into a dish so they could be put on display. "What brings you down to our shop today? How've you been?"

"I'm fine as usual," Rozalin responded, coming up to the counter for a look at what was on sale. The ingredients on the counter and the shelves behind Vivienne looked especially good for brewing her own custom perfumes which she used herself and freely distributed to others for no charge. "I was just feeling a little bored so I thought I'd come over for a visit and to purchase some more ingredients."

"That's sweet of you," the young Breton said as she filled a bowl with deathbells. "It's a shame that Jaree-Ra fellow loitering outside our shop only comes in to demand ingredients we don't have or even sell." She sighed in exasperation, apparently fed up with the only rude customer she and her aunt had to deal with. "Why is he even out there anyway? It's like he's scoping out our shop so he can break in and steal something valuable. Hell, I'm afraid he might even go as far as to murder my aunt."

"Well, he hasn't done anything yet," Rozalin rested her arms on the counter as she spoke, "but I'll ask Captain Aldis to increase the number of patrols around the Market District so he won't try anything."

"Thanks," Vivienne smiled and began stocking the shelves with various ingredients. "I'm glad my aunt and I can count on you."

"It's my pleasure," Rozalin replied, closing her eyes as she cocked her head to the side while a small smile spread across her face. "I'm always more than happy to help keep Skyrim's people safe from crime in any way I can."

"Speaking of which, did you hear the Blackblood Marauders robbed another ship just last week?" Vivienne asked as she finished with one set of shelves while moving on to another, catching Rozalin shake her head out of the corner of her eye. "It crashed right off the coast of Solitude on some reefs nearby. Some of the merchants and the guards were killed by the impact, and the survivors were all slaughtered. Not a single corpse of the marauders was found, though, so it's suspected that they all got away unscathed with no evidence pointing to where their hideout it."

"That's terrible," Rozalin commented, picking up one of the deathbells to smell it before putting it back in the bowl. "Something must be done about this. Patrols must be sent out along the coast to prevent this from happening. We simply can't let another ship get claimed by those marauders; the business down at the East Empire Company Warehouse is already waning as it is. If this keeps up, the place will go out of business because we can't keep funding the operations down there, nor export anything to Dawnstar and Windhelm and the other Provinces."

"I'm in full agreement with you on that, but I don't think the guards will get a second chance at nabbing these crooks," Vivienne turned back to her once she was all finished with the shelves. "They're slippery bastards, that's for sure."

Rozalin's eyes widened in surprise as her mouth hung partially open. "Wait, you mean to say one of them was actually arrested?"

"You didn't know about that?" the Breton's eyes widened too at the young noblewoman's question, to which Rozalin shook her head.

"I've been busy practicing the basic skills of magic and I'm doing a moderate workload for my classes at the Bard's College, so I'm not really up on current events these days."

"Well, to make a long story short, the guards arrested an important member of the Blackblood Marauders a couple weeks ago and have been interrogating him rigorously, though he hasn't turned over the rest of his gang," Vivienne explained. "Then two days ago, he escaped from Castle Dour's dungeon with the assistance of someone believed to be another marauder. People suspect it was Jaree-Ra, but there's no crucial evidence to tie him to the crime, or even the marauders for that matter. In fact, the only witness was a guard who saw him leaning against the wall outside Beirand's armory."

"Was he interrogated by the guards?" Rozalin inquired, resting her chin in her left hand.

Vivienne nodded grimly. The news she was about to relay didn't look good. "He was, but got released since his alibi seemed to hold up."

"I see…" the young noblewoman closed her eyes and thought the information over for a moment. If Jaree-Ra really was involved with the Blackblood Marauders, that could give the guards a reason to arrest him. On the other hand, a premature imprisonment on the charges of murder, assisted breakout, and theft could send a message driving the whole pack into hiding as soon as they got word that their man in Solitude was caught.

But how fast would they hear of the arrest? Another one of their members had to be nearby. That person would keep a watch on things to spot incoming trouble or hear rumors from patrons at the Winking Skeever and the guards.

Yet where was this accomplice? The individual in question would have to be either in the city or at the docks, though if only one was in the former, the other could be found at the latter. It made sense since the person down by the docks could watch ships come in and check for any important cargo. Not only that, but he or she could sneak into the warehouse and find the register listing what ships were coming in from where so the marauders would have a chance to strike.

Furthermore, that person must've been someone Jaree-Ra knew, someone who was close to him. As no one wanted to be associated with him, there was only one suspect left who fit the description.

Vivienne was watching Rozalin formulate all this in her head and at last smiled when the young noblewoman's eyes opened as a revelation came to her. "You thought of something?" she inquired, to which Rozalin nodded in response.

"I believe so. Jaree-Ra has a sister named Deeja, correct?"

"Yeah, he does," Vivienne saw where her friend was going with this and decided to give Rozalin what she was looking for without her asking. "She's always down at the docks, so I'd say it's highly likely she's one of the Blackblood Marauders too."

"Correct," Rozalin declared, sticking an index finger up the air as her eyes widened. "If that's the case, then we can nick two birds and try to find where the flock made it's nest."

Closing her eyes to contemplate the plan and give it more thought, Vivienne eventually sighed. "True, but don't you think that could be considered circumstantial?" she asked, holding a hand out in front of her with the palm facing up. "I mean, there's nothing against the two of them so far. Wouldn't they suspect they're being watched by the guards and report it to the marauders if they are indeed with them? They might also spread rumors that the guards in Solitude are all corrupt by framing two innocent citizens for crimes they didn't commit."

"You have a point," the young noblewoman pointed at the Breton. "If it comes to that, the Jarls of the other cities could accuse my aunt of corruption and claim she's unfit to rule as High Queen."

"Exactly," Vivienne stated as-a-matter-of-factly. "You just can't act in a situation like this."

"Indeed," Rozalin said and then pounded her fist against the counter, "but I can't let this go on any further. I must do something."

"Like what?" Vivienne inquired, leaning against the counter. "What could you possibly do to catch them in the act with alerting them to your presence?"

"To put it simply," Rozalin began to explain, "I'll speak with General Tullius and ask if he could have his best scouts watch their every movement without being seen. They'll then report back to him once Jaree-Ra and Deeja have done something that'll give the two of them away and then we have them!"

Nodding as she listened intently to her friend's plan, Vivienne remained quiet a few moments longer before she smiled and applauded the young noblewoman. "Wonderful!" she complimented, "Just what I'd expect from the niece of High Queen Elisif. You'd make a great strategist if you were in the army."

Rozalin just blushed in embarrassment as she sheepishly turned her head to the side to try and keep the Breton from noticing. "Oh, stop," she giggled softly, "don't embarrass me like that."

"I'm serious," Vivienne said while her aunt came in with a box full of alchemical ingredients. "I really think you could be a swell strategist. You could plan out how to deal with any foe who opposes the Empire."

"Now, now, my dear," Angeline told her niece, setting the box down on the counter. "Let's not embarrass her any further." Holding the box out to Rozalin, she pulled the lid open to reveal a small plethora of ingredients. "I'm sorry Rozalin, but I just gave my schedule a quick check and saw I'm due for a meeting with a representative of the East Empire Company who's coming over to see what ingredients can be exported. I know you wanted to have a look at them, so here's a small sample of what I received for you to go over when you have time."

"Alright, thank you, Angeline," Rozalin said as she took the box and bowed in respect after closing the lid. Opening her satchel, she took some coins from a pouch and paid for the ingredients. "I'll come back at another time to see the rest and pick up anything I could use for my perfumes."

"Feel free to," the elderly Breton smiled at her, closing her eyes as she nodded. "You're always welcome here, my dear."

"Well, I'd better get going," the young noblewoman turned to leave, looking at the Bretons with a smile across her face. "I'd rather not take up too much of your time so you can prepare for the representative's arrival."

After saying her goodbyes to Angeline and her niece, Rozalin stepped outside the shop and closed the door behind her. Turning to the nearby ramp, she elected to head up into Castle Dour in search of General Tullius first before returning to the vendors across the street. As she began to walk towards the castle, she looked up at it in determination, unaware she was being watched until someone to her left spoke up.

"Fine day for a stroll and a bit of shopping, eh?"

Whirling in that direction, Rozalin glared at a rough skinned Argonian leaning against the wall next to Angeline's Aromatics. Growling at him, the shady man just smirked as a response to her reaction, lifting an arm up to rest it on the side of a cart next to him. "I suppose that means you're not happy to see me, I take it?"

"You wish, Jaree-Ra," the noblewoman spat, turning back to where her objective was located. "I'll have you know I've far better things to do with my time than initiate conversation with scum like you."

"Is that how you talk to all your aunt's subjects? If I was someone with a foul temper, I'd feel irked if you spoke to me like that," Jaree-Ra sneered in amusement, chuckling a little before he made his next move. "Would that be why you're going up to Castle Dour for a visit?"

Rozalin didn't flinch. She was fully aware that anybody watching someone go up this ramp could possibly be heading up to the castle where General Tullius could be found. Either that or the blacksmith and the fletcher, but the castle was the likelier of the three choices for someone like her.

Instead, she looked back at him and hissed, "That's none of your business! I'm merely heading up to check on the soldiers and the city guards. It's a noble's duty to ensure the army functions properly and see to it that the soldiers and guards are healthy and in good condition—something you don't seem to understand."

"Then enlighten me, princess," the shady Argonian mocked, challenging her to try and prove her point. "How is it that I don't understand the guards when I'm doing them a favor by watching the Market District so they can better spend their time patrolling the roads for bandits?"

"Because it's to keep scum from breaking into innocent civilians' shops and stealing away into the night with some of their valuables, as well as to protect them from a cold blooded murderer! It's all thanks to the guards who arrest criminals and the nobles who see to it that their people are safe that the civilians can live in peace without fear of falling victim to criminals!" Rozalin raised her voice as she stepped towards him, jabbing a finger at Jaree-Ra like it was a sharp dagger just waiting to be sunk into the Argonian's flesh. "And don't call me 'princess'; I have a name, you know!"

Jaree-Ra merely threw his head up and laughed. "Ah, now that's a good one, princess; much better than simply saying people join the Legion or the local town guard so they can have something to do," he commented, looking back down upon with a broad smile on his face while uncrossing his arms. "But that would ruin the game now, wouldn't it?"

Eyeing him suspiciously, Rozalin bit her lower lip and took a step back, reaching her hand behind her to secretly begin forming her candlelight spell. If she had to, she'd immediately shoot her hand up in front of his face to blind him with the light before going for the nearest guard. Still, she had to be cautious—one quick movement and he'd never tell her the meaning behind his question. Although she could use that to her advantage in having him investigated on the suspicion of attempting to commit a crime, it was a flimsy charge at best. Furthermore, Jaree-Ra could turn the tables on her by claiming she used a novice illusion spell to blind him. That really wouldn't work well in her favor. She had to catch him in the act if he was to be arrested.

"What kind of game?" she finally inquired, trying to hold off her anger towards him as best she could.

"A simple game in which the bear goes for the salmon and tries to catch it," Jaree-Ra leaned forward slightly and then moved back a moment later. "The bear better be fast if it wants to catch the salmon before it swims down the current. Sometimes it may even end up getting bit by a slaughterfish or two."

"And what exactly does that mean?" Rozalin asked, going forward with her line of questioning very carefully.

Jaree-Ra closed his eyes and snickered, walking past her as he started to leave. "I'll leave you to figure that out by yourself, princess. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go see an acquaintance of mine. Farewell for now, princess."

"I said don't call me 'princess'!" Rozalin called to him as he turned to head away. "Don't ever call me 'princess'!"

When he had turned the corner and was out of sight, she clenched her fingers into a fist and then went about her own way. "Fine, be that way," she said to herself, "you'll soon come to regret those words anyway…and you'll regret calling me 'princess'."

…

Not too hot, but not too cold either. That was exactly how he liked his apple cabbage stew on a nice, warm, sunny day like today. What made the meal all the better was his drink of choice: Black-Briar mead, the finest of drinks ever brewed in all of Skyrim. It was a blessing to know Maven Black-Briar, the owner of such a refined meadery located down in what was one of the more unpleasant cities of the country, as that meant he could get a cut of the mead which was imported from Windhelm. Traveling across the entire country would be too long and a tedious venture at best due to the delivery caravans having to constantly go back and forth between the two cities and make stops at Whiterun and nearby towns along the way. It was only common sense to have brought it to a closer destination and ship it from there.

As he took a sip after slurping up the last bits of his soup, the dark-greenish skinned Argonian reached into his pocket to pull out a few coins he had pilfered from the East Empire Company Warehouse. No one there would miss them because he didn't take too many—just a small pouch that held enough money to pay for his lunch at the Winking Skeever. Besides, it wouldn't make too much of a difference anyway seeing as how he worked there, aside from the 'secret' side business he had set up in Brinewater Grotto, a hidden cave that acted as the backdoor for goods on the black market to be brought into Solitude.

Furthermore, he was sitting in a small side room with only one way to get in and out, so the other patrons wouldn't notice him counting some stolen coins. And even if they did, they wouldn't know it was taken without permission. More or less, they wouldn't care—they left him alone since they knew he liked his privacy.

Setting the coins on the table, he mulled over what Erikur told him over lunch. From what the greedy Thane of Solitude said, it appeared Maven's niece would be coming to the city to tutor the Jarl's niece in magic and help her with her independent studies. That could be useful, he thought, considering how she could keep Rozalin entertained while learning more about the Blue Palace directly from her so that a potential 'job' there could go smoothly. Although, Erikur did mention that she would never ask the young noblewoman anything like that, and if she actually did, she wouldn't share the information gleaned with him or anyone else they knew. The Thane described her as the sort of girl who wanted to do what was right rather than abuse her powers for her own selfish needs.

To put the cherry on top, he said she was a mage currently attending the College of Winterhold and that spoke volumes of what sort of person she was. She'd be very smart, a given since she'd be Rozalin's tutor, and she could either be the snobbish type or the more withdrawn introvert. Those were just a few of the basic details he didn't need to really concern himself with. He wouldn't be bothered by her so long as she didn't work for him. The guys down at the warehouse could be incompetent enough sometimes and they got on his nerves, so hopefully she wouldn't want to take a visit down to the warehouse to see what he did for a living.

A hand came down hard on the table, causing the coins to hop up in the air and jitter around the wooden surface until they came to a stop. Somewhat startled, Gulum-Ei looked up to see a fellow Argonian standing before him. "Ah, dammit, Jaree-Ra," he swore as the shady lizard took a seat in the other chair, "why'd you have to go and do that, huh? I was in the middle of thinking about something."

"You can think all you want later," Jaree-Ra rudely replied, putting his left hand to his side. "I've got a bone to pick with you."

"Again?" came the other's response as he sighed, exasperated by the guy he had to deal with whenever a problem arose between their respective trades. "I thought you'd let me be after the last time you dumped my head in a crate of dead salmon. You're not supposed to be talking to me anyway; I can't get involved with whatever you and your boys do. It'd ruin my business and make me look bad. I could get arrested."

"And which trade would that be, Gulum-Ei?" Jaree-Ra brought his right hand up and balled it into a fist, leaving only the index finger remaining so he could put the tip of it against the table. "Your job at the warehouse, or your smuggling operation? It doesn't matter either way since you'll lose both if you cross me on this next hunt."

"Didn't you hear what I just said?" Gulum-Ei inquired, crossing one arm across his chest and pointing at the other Argonian. "Whatever it is, I don't want any part of it. The only reason why I do business with you in the first place is because you force me to buy off your stolen goods."

"Exactly, that's the idea," the shady Argonian said, pulling a slip of paper from his pocket. "But they're not stolen goods and I know you work with the Thieves Guild and the Blood Horkers too and that you're a greedy son of a bitch who cares only for himself."

"Alright, alright, you've made your point. Just go away and leave me be. I've got to get back to work in a bit."

"Hold your horses, Gulum-Ei," Jaree-Ra grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving. "You're not going anywhere without this. Make sure you read it carefully; this is what's up next, and I've also written down what I expect from you. Don't try to cheat me on this deal."

"And if I do?" Gulum-Ei asked cautiously, taking the slip of paper from the other Argonian "You do realize that anything you say to the authorities about me would be considered a bunch of lies because they don't trust you, right?"

"Correct, but I don't have to tell them anything…" Whipping out an Orcish dagger from the sheathe attached to his belt, Jaree-Ra held the tip of it up to Gulum-Ei's neck, pushing it against him as if to suddenly thrust the deadly weapon into the other's throat and kill him on the spot. "All I have to do is ambush you on the way to the docks and drag your sorry ass off to a secluded location where I can gut you like the greedy pig you are before dumping your corpse in the sea. Do you understand me?" he growled threateningly.

"Okay, okay, I understand!" the greedy Argonian said as he nervously leaned away from the dagger as he held his hands up defensively. "Just put that thing away! I'll do as you say!"

Jaree-Ra smirked, satisfied that he got his way with Gulum-Ei again. Quickly sliding the dagger back in the sheathe, he looked to the other patrons nearby and brushed off their stares. "Go back to your business, folks. Just a simple disagreement. Nothing to see here." Turning back to the other lizard, he said, "Excellent. I knew you'd see things my way. Just be sure it stays like that."

Standing up to leave, he noticed Gulum-Ei was moving to pick up the coins that were on the table and quickly put his hand in between the two. "No, no, not for you. Think of this as payment for providing you with all you needed to know for now," he said as he swept the coins towards him and put them in the leather pouch he carried. "See you around, Gulum-Ei. It was good doing business with you."

As the shady Argonian left the Winking Skeever, Gulum-Ei looked back down at where the coins were and sighed, believing it was about time for him to go as well.

"There go the coins…Ah, well, I think it's about time I fired the buffoon who was supposed to get this as payment for his work."

…

**Okay, so now we've been introduced to our two main characters, Ursula from Fire Emblem and Rozalin from Disgaea 2. Let's take a look at their background from their respective games and then I'll tell you why I wanted them to be the main characters:**

**Ursula is known as the Blue Crow of the Four Fangs, a group of four elite assassins who are members of an organization known as the Black Fang. She appears four times throughout the game: first she's seen conversing with Beyard in the only side quest for Lyn's arc; then she appears later in the game during chapter 21 of Eliwood's arc (chapter 22 if you're doing Hector's arc, which is his perspective of Eliwood's arc), in which she and the other Four Fangs are receiving their orders from Sonia; if you visit the village at the bottom of the map in chapter 24 (chapter 25), she'll be there to give you a Hammerne staff; finally, she serves as the boss of chapter 26 (chapter 28) and there are two different cutscenes at the end of the chapter that depend on whether or not you defeat her. In the final chapter of the game, Nergal, the game's main antagonist, creates eight morphs that all look like bosses from previous chapters and one of them looks like Ursula.**

**I chose Ursula because she's one of my favorite characters from Fire Emblem and also because I felt she'd fit the role quite nicely. She had very little development in the game so I decided to give her a personality I thought best suited her and throw in some traits to go along with it so she wouldn't feel one-dimensional or be too generic a character.**

**In Disgaea 2, Rozalin is the daughter of Overlord Zenon, a powerful overlord who's known for having defeated a thousand overlords. Rozalin acts as a pampered aristocrat in the beginning of the game, but as the story progresses she begins to undergo a lot of development in which she starts to show concern for others and would rather help them than her father. Her father has kept her cooped up in her mansion and doesn't take the time to visit her, so she has no idea what sort of person he is or what he looks like—in fact, she doesn't even know where he is. When she does finally meet him after she, Adell, and the party defeat Axel in the Coliseum, Rozalin becomes shocked at how he's willing to kill everyone who helped her meet him before erasing her memories of the time she spent with them. Once they escape, Rozalin still remains with Adell and the others and helps them in any way she can.**

**I'm sorry I can't provide anything more on Rozalin's description. I myself haven't beaten Disgaea 2 yet, but I'm making pretty good progress so far. I have read her bio on the Disgaea wikia, though I don't want to spoil anything for anyone who has played Disgaea 2, but hasn't beaten the game yet.**

**I'll have to admit, Rozalin wasn't the only candidate for the role of the second main character. Besides her, there was also Rachel Alucard from the BlazBlue games and Legretta the Quick from Tales of the Abyss. The reason why I didn't use Legretta was because I thought she might be better suited for a Fallout 3 story—which I highly doubt I'll do, seeing as how I don't plan on writing one. As for Rachel, I haven't played any of the BlazBlue games even though I've heard about them. Plus she's a vampire, so if I did use her I'd have to make her start out as a human and then afflict her with Sanguinare Vampiris sometime later in the story. I didn't want to do that, or start out with her already being a vampire, so Rozalin is now the second main character because she fits well into the role.**

**Let me know what you think of them as the main characters in your reviews.**

**Gulum-Ei is quite the shady character. When I was playing Skyrim and did the Thieves Guild questline, I thought that he should have more of a role to play in others' affairs than to be involved only with the guild. He does run a smuggling business after all, so I thought it was only natural for the Blood Horkers and the Blackblood Marauders to do business with him. However, I think there's more to it than just that.**

**If we're to look at his connection to Jaree-Ra, the wikia page on Jaree-Ra points out that Skyrim's Creation Kit claims he's Gulum-Ei's brother. (This can be also be learned by going into the Creation Kit directly, though I found on the wikia because I don't have the Creation Kit.) This relationship doesn't show up in the game, but it does pose a good question that may or may not serve to validate this claim: has Gulum-Ei been removed from the family which Jaree-Ra and his sister, Deeja, were a part of, or vice versa? It's hard to say, really, since neither men say anything about each other when you speak to them, nor does Deeja make any remark about Gulum-Ei. This also sort of answers a bonus question: were all three of them part of the same family at one point until they all were cast out and went their separate ways?**

**The Blood Horkers on the other hand, may actually have some sort of business connection in Solitude. The strategy guide for Skyrim mentions that the East Empire Company in Solitude won't be too grateful towards you if you complete the quest, **_**Rise in the East**_**. To me, I believe this is a piece of evidence proving the Blood Horkers do work in the smuggling operation because eliminating them and Haldyn decreases the revenue going into the smuggling operation, which in turn causes the East Empire Company in Solitude to lose profits. This means that Gulum-Ei isn't running the smuggling operation just to make money for himself—he's also making more money for the company. It's also interesting to note how Windhelm's branch of the East Empire Company is suffering, yet the company is prospering in Solitude. This could prove that the smuggling operation helps the Solitude branch to stay in business, whereas the branch in Windhelm will go out of business unless the Blood Horkers are eliminated.**

**Here's how I see this whole scheme functioning, based on this evidence and Gulum-Ei's connection to the Thieves Guild, which also gets a cut so the guild can let Gulum-Ei work independently. It's all split into five fifths: one for Gulum-Ei, another for Solitude's branch of the East Empire Company, a third for the Blood Horkers, the fourth for the Blackblood Marauders, and the Thieves Guild claims the final fifth. The business may be much deeper than this since others involved in it may also get a cut, but I just split it into fifths since this as far as I can speculate on the matter.**

**In regards to Jaree-Ra being involved in the escape of the Blackblood Marauder who had been arrested, I think it doesn't seem to make much sense for Ahtar to let the marauder break out of jail. I mean, Ahtar isn't involved with them—he's the executioner and works in Castle Dour's prison; he's more of an upstanding citizen serving Jarl Elisif and the Empire. Jaree-Ra, on the other hand, is one of the marauders, so it makes more sense for him to be involved in the breakout than Ahtar.**

**Next chapter I'll be going into Yngol Barrow and Azura's quest, so we'll be seeing a lot of Ursula. Rozalin won't play a part in the next chapter, though in chapter three she'll complete the favors for Svari and Octieve San and his daughter, Evette San by herself.**

**Let me know what you think of the story so far. Questions and comments are welcome.**

**Edit: Small changes to one sentence in one of the paragraphs.**


End file.
